


Viper Radio

by Lucivar



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Banter, Detective Betty Cooper, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gearhead Betty Cooper, Investigative!Bughead, Jughead and Toni are BFFs, Loss of Virginity, Mystery, POV Betty Cooper, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Harassment, Sexual Tension, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, Stalking, Underage Drinking, jason (regrettably) speaks, medium burn (I am trying something new), murder board, questions of identity, radio host Jughead Jones, set in 2006
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 59,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28760709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucivar/pseuds/Lucivar
Summary: When Betty starts investigating a series of stalker-like videos left for the women of Riverdale College, she is asked by one of the victims to take the story public.Having already rage-quit the Blue & Gold over “differences of opinion” with management, she needs a new way to get her unfolding story out to the masses.She turns to Serpent King Jughead Jones and his underground showViper Radiofor help.Or, two nerds blow off their homework to solve a mystery and get distracted in the process
Relationships: Betty Cooper & Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Jughead Jones & Toni Topaz
Comments: 510
Kudos: 166





	1. lights out, guerrilla radio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redcirce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcirce/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [redcirce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcirce/pseuds/redcirce). Log in to view. 



> When I first spoke to [redcirce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcirce) about this fic, I pitched ~10-15 chapters and look where we are now. Evidently, I lack self-control. E.g., Author's Notes. 
> 
> **redcirce** collaborated with me on this fic and is my muse in ALL THE WAYS. Thank you so much for putting up with all my messages and calls to you (FOR HOURS you indulged me, you treasure, I love you forever <3), for seriously thinking about all the (ENDLESS) questions I asked, for validating all the weird things I wanted to happen in this fic. I cannot thank you enough for the love and effort you have poured into this story, the playlist and of course, the manips. 
> 
> The mystery in this story is pretty intense, so **redcirce** has wonderfully offered to create us a MURDER BOARD (well, mystery board because there is no murder)! YES! The first one will be up after chapter 13 is posted, so you don’t have to keep track of all the clues unless you’re into that. Also, they have SO MANY awesome manips that you all should definitely check out as they are so fucking talented!!! Please drop them a comment because they are wonderful!
> 
> I have created a [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4pw4LfrUm0cQ5DRkgvfdmE?si=DybxwnTpRke8whyyy8EOGw) that houses all the songs mentioned in this fic in no particular order. It will change a little because I still need to finish some of the later chapters and _align the spread sheets_. 
> 
> This fic is inspired by a few other muses including **Pump up the Volume** and **Veronica Mars**. No need to have watched either for this to make sense as they form a small part of the world building (e.g., PI Alice Cooper, Betty and her Taser, Dr. Grundy versus Dr. Landry). OF COURSE feel free to talk to me about them and point out the similarities if you want!
> 
> I MUST ALSO BOW to [meditationonbaaal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationonbaaal) for being such a fantastic enabler and supporter. They seized this fic from the clutches of my anxiety to make me laugh, fix the endless spray of semicolons and reassure me that I am not (totally) insane. Thanks for being so fucking wonderful and writing such incredible fics (everyone - go read them immediately!) <3 Your support for me is beyond words and all I can say is thank you and I love you forever <3
> 
> I once apologised for my Brit spelling, but no longer. 
> 
> All mistakes are, of course, mine :)
> 
> Love you all, Georgie <3 
> 
> ~~~
> 
>  **Chapter title song:** Rage Against the Machine – Guerrilla Radio (1999)  
>  **Date:** Wednesday, 26th April 2006

**Ethelhead:** Betty, I need your help. I’m really worried as I just got delivered this disgusting tape from what is clearly a stalker of mine. I remember at school that you used to handle this kind of thing a bit and I was wondering if you could help me? I really don’t want to be laughed at by the sheriff again. Anyway, could you please find my stalker for me? I will pay your going rate. Thanks, Ethel

 **Better.than.Drew:** Hi Ethel, lovely to hear from you and I wish it were under better circumstances. I am so sorry that you have a stalker and of course I am happy to help. I assure you that I will handle this case with the utmost discretion. You should be aware that you’re not the only woman from Riverdale College who has received a tape and I am already on this case. That being said, it would be great if you could send me a copy of the tape via my lock box. Are you free at all to talk about any of the events on the video? We can do it in person or online. Other clients of mine have mentioned the “alarming similarity” to real life. Many thanks, Betty

 **Ethelhead:** Thanks Betty. I feel better already. I’ll think about it and we can discuss after you’ve watched it. If what you say is true and this is happening to other women on campus, I just want people to know about it. Do you have any way of publishing your on-going investigations to warn people? 

**Better.than.Drew:** Of sorts. That’s not really part of my job description. 

**Ethelhead:** I’ll pay you to make it your job. 

Betty stares intently at the week-old emails on her private investigator AOL account, toying with the aforementioned tape. The case of the stalker videos is weird and creepy. 

She now has three videos in her possession: three videos from three women who all appear to have been stalked by the same person. Or three independent people with a shared M.O. 

The women: Cheryl Blossom, Ethel Muggs and Monica Clayton. 

The videos are cut with a mixture of shaky-cam filming as the stalker follows the women home, to their car, dorm rooms or out grocery shopping, interspersed with a theatrically–staged personal scene starring an unknown woman. The actors wear kabuki theatre masks, with the only “identifying” feature a wig emulating their target’s hair. In the ghoulish outfits the actors perform parody sex acts. 

Whoever the stalker is, he or she seems to know the women intimately. Despite this, none of the women have pointed to the same list of potential culprits. The only thing that all the women have in common is that they attended Riverdale High and now all three are at Riverdale College. 

Cheryl Blossom’s staged scene showed the actress in a long red wig, fully dressed in red, pretending to go down on another woman. (“I’m a lesbian,” Cheryl told her online. Cheryl didn’t care to know who Betty was, and likely didn’t remember her from school. She just wanted answers. “It’s easier talking to you if I don’t know who you are.”) 

Ethel Muggs’s scene had been one of a woman masturbating furiously to a video of a really gorgeous guy in a leather jacket. Ethel didn’t want to speak to Betty about the video in person but chatted online, the alleged veil of anonymity helping her past her awkwardness. Not that her clues or directions so far amounted to much. 

Monica and Betty met in person to talk over a milkshake. Betty remembers Monica from school, but they weren’t really friends. Monica’s scene was one where the woman (in a black wig) dressed up and got online to striptease in front of the webcam. At Pop’s the day they caught up, Monica confessed to Betty that she has been earning money moonlighting as a camgirl across a few different sites. Betty took her statement without judgement. 

Now, she stares back at the screen and thinks to herself, _How can I get the message out? I am no longer at the Blue & Gold and I have no online influence so to speak…_

But, she finds herself wanting to give hope to Ethel regardless, so she emails back.

 **Better.than.Drew:** I’ll see what I can do.

Ethel responds almost instantaneously. 

**Ethelhead:** I am so pleased. 

Betty takes a deep breath and recalls the huge fight she had earlier that day with the student editor of the Blue & Gold, Val Brown. 

~~~

“Betty,” Val says with her arms crossed over her chest. “I have told you time and time again that I am not publishing your article and that you need to drop your obsession with the Greek system.”

Betty always suspected that this would be the case; she and Val disagreed so frequently over the past few weeks due to Betty’s reporting that a rift began to form between them. 

“Tell me why Val,” Betty implores softly, watching for a change in Val’s expression. 

Val appears uncomfortable, and Betty almost feels sorry for her. Val is in her last year at Riverdale College and was lucky enough to land a job at _The Boston Globe_. Betty has a feeling that her story is a bridge too far – too inflammatory and too anti-establishment for Val’s current conservative appetite.

She takes a deep breath and walks behind Betty to close the door. “I just can’t, Betty.”

“Is it because someone in the administration has asked you to block me?” Betty asks and sees Val’s look of alarm. “I thought so. Can I ask why?”

“You can ask why, but I am not sure if I can tell you…” Val says, a little sadly. 

Betty smiles grimly at her friend and a woman she has grown to respect so fiercely that this conversation actually hurts like a stab to the stomach. “The dean found out that it was you who egged his car in retaliation for the inaction against the website, right?”

Since the first day that she joined the newspaper, Val took Betty under her wing, and they built a strong friendship over the past few months. Val is whip-smart and a strong defender of women. Betty knows that Val wouldn’t be caving unless the dean had leverage over her.

Val reels back in shock. “How did you know that, Betty?”

Betty’s mouth forms a grimace. “Val, I have eyes and ears all over Riverdale. It’s what makes me a highly effective investigative reporter. It’s why you asked me to cover the rampant misogyny within the system. It’s why I want us to publish my piece.”

Her latest article draws out the correlations between the general misconduct of the fraternity houses and the anonymous website RateRiverVixens.com. Women who “score highly” are targeted at the fraternity parties as “easy”. It alarmed Betty to discover that those women cast as easy were often from the Southside. These women were targeted as ones that would cave to the smarmy social pressure of the wealthy Riverdale elite. Sure, it could be a coincidence, and Betty is careful in her article to not _blame_ the archaic, Greek system rife with toxic masculinity, but she has enough compelling evidence of underage drinking and general disregard for the women to bring an inquiry down on their heads. 

Val shakes her head, “Betty, I am sorry. My hands are tied on this one. I can’t publish your piece, or the dean will expel me. I need to graduate to get to _The Globe._ Please understand, it’s my dream job.”

“I do understand Val, but I am disappointed. I had thought that you, of all people, would want to see these morons brought to justice for their transgressions against women,” Betty says, feeling a little chagrined as Val’s face goes white. “And now you’re going to fall on this sword for the frat house pigs? You?”

Val’s face twists into a snarl. “Betty, give me a fucking break. College doesn’t last forever.”

Betty raises both eyebrows. “I know this is harsh, but this is a touch more important than your job. This is about men believing that women exist solely for their pleasure, it’s about the erasure of consent, and it’s about the wealth disparity in Riverdale giving rise to some truly horrible social constructs. And it all starts on this site.” 

Val shudders. “Betty, I swear to god that I am sorry about this. It’s just that my hands are tied. I can’t publish your story.”

“Did you forget that night where they paid those poor girls from the Southside to jelly wrestle for them? This smacks of similarly horrible disregard for females and the influence of wealth disparity in Riverdale.”

“I know!” Val yells at her irately, “I fucking know this Betty! But I can’t publish.”

Betty sighs deeply. “You can’t publish anything at all? Or you can’t publish anything in connection to the frats?”

“I can’t publish anything about the site.”

“What?” Betty raises her voice unintentionally. It reverberates around the room, and she stares at Val in utter horror. “They’re muzzling the Blue & Gold?”

Val bites her lip and nods. “I’m afraid so.”

Betty feels her stomach plummet.

“What about the subjugation of women, Val?” Betty asks, shocked.

“You think I don’t go to bed every night worrying about that?” Val hisses back, her eyes bleak. “The fact that if it is the Greek system that’s running this site, then the disparity in wealth and power between the victims and the perpetrators goes so far deep into the fabric of this College, nay, Riverdale as a whole that I can’t even begin to untangle it.”

Betty gulps, feeling as if someone has dumped a bucket of ice water all over her. 

“This is so unbelievably wrong,” she whispers, putting her hands over her face. 

Val nods glumly. “You understand my position though?”

“I hate that you’re being hamstrung and I wish you had asked me for help about the egging incident. I have so much on the dean I could have blackmailed the evil old coot to get you off,” Betty says, folding her arms.

Val shakes her head with a sad smile on her face. “I think this goes beyond the dean, Betty, to the Riverdale College donors. Most of our distinguished alums and those who provide the largest donations were members of the Greek system.”

Betty groans. “This whole thing just reeks of patriarchal privilege reinforcing the corrupt systems that helped mould them into corporate sociopaths.”

Val barks out a laugh. “This is why you’re my favourite reporter.”

Betty smiles at her mentor. “So how do you know all this about the alums?”

“I’ve done a fair bit of investigation on this myself.”

“Can I see your notes on that Val? Just out of curiosity.”

Val nods, “Yeah of course, but you didn’t get them from me. Okay?”

“Definitely, you’re a protected source,” Betty says solemnly.

They sit for a moment in silence, and Betty says, “So what are our options here?”

“I put you back on writing our human interest column. You are really good at that, Betty, and we put this whole rating site reporting behind us,” Val says softly.

“Or?” Betty prompts.

“Or you quit and do what you want,” Val smiles tightly. “I can’t stop you if you find another media outlet.”

Betty grins, “I like option number two Val.”

Val exhales in relief. “Thank heavens. I will do anything I can to support you from the inside, okay? Anything we find out I will send your way.”

“Thanks Val,” Betty says with a smile. “From your boyfriend on campus police right?”

Val looks at her, shocked. “Seriously, is there anything you don’t know?”

Betty laughs, “Who runs this site, otherwise they would be castrated or dead at this point.”

Val nods, pleased. 

“Okay, so how should we play this to distance me from the paper, so you can be a source for me, under the radar?” Betty asks, tapping her fingers together thoughtfully.

“Want to stage a no-holds-barred screaming match with me?” Val whispers excitedly. 

Betty chuckles, “My dear, there is nothing I’d like more than to quit the Blue & Gold yelling my anti-establishment manifesto.”

Val laughs genuinely, looking more relaxed than at any previous point in their conversation. “Whatever I say now, know that I still love you.”

Betty winks at her. “Right back at you patriarchal apologist.”

Val snorts, “Oh geez, no one has ever accused me of that in my life.”

Betty cracks her knuckles and pulls some stretches, limbering up for the drama. “Shall we?”

“Ladies first,” Val jokes. 

Betty shoots her a grin and raises her voice. “Are you actually kidding me Val? Have you lost all sense of journalist integrity?”

Val gives her a mock-hurt look and mouths, “Ouch”. Betty grins and continues, “You know there’s an emerging link between the frats and this site. I don’t understand why you won’t let me work on it!”

Val rolls her eyes and lies loudly, “It’s a coincidence Betty! You need to let this go. I’ve told you five times now. Give it up!”

“Look at that facts, Val!” Betty yells with a smile on her face. “You know that I’m a great investigator, and so if I say that there is a link, then there is.” 

Val crosses her arms and glares at Betty, though it’s obvious she’s amused. 

“I'm not going to be party to your political dramas, Val. Not at the cost of my own truth. I hate that you’re telling me to look the other way when the current facts beg me to dig deeper!”

“Wake up! There is nothing more than coincidences here, Betty!” Val spits at her, fighting a smile. “Get it through that blonde little head of yours! Was I wrong when I defended you against the accusations that you only became part of this newspaper group because the sponsoring faculty member thinks you're cute?”

Betty rolls her eyes when she thinks of the faculty member in question, Dr. Grundy. 

“Damn, Val!” Betty laughs without humour. “I love you, but this is stupid! I won’t stand for this gaslighting!”

“Ugh, you’re just another diva reporter who can’t stand constructive criticism,” Val says with a smirk and Betty shakes her head, grinning. 

Betty laughs falsely. “You know that’s not true! But if that’s what you think of me, then here goes, Val. I'm quitting the Blue & Gold.”

Val scoffs at her, “See this is what I mean, Blondie. You can’t handle people thinking that you’re wrong, and you certainly can’t take criticism on your story.”

Betty unclips her Blue & Gold reporter badge from her jacket and throws it on to Val's desk dramatically ( _I’ve always wanted to quit something theatrically,_ she thinks wryly, _I just never thought it would be my career._ ). 

“I can when it’s legitimate concerns,” Betty says calmly, “Not: Oh no, the frat boys will cry about it! That's why I have to leave you. I vow that I'm going to track down whoever is running this site and bring them to justice.”

“Whatever, Betty, you’re a good reporter, but in this case, you’re so wrong,” Val says coldly.

Betty shakes her head sadly. “I want to actually bring the right guys to justice. I know I will. Just don't get in my way.”

Val shrugs apologetically, “Why would I care about getting in the way of a second-rate journalist who has more lip that prose?”

Betty shakes her head, suppressing a giggle and walks to the door of Val’s office. 

She pauses as she looks back at her friend and says, “I don't think I need to worry. I can't see us crossing parts anytime soon. Goodbye Val, it's been real.”

She hears Val’s cry of frustration as she leaves the room and notices the wide eyes of the surrounding journalists as they scurry to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping.

And with that, Betty kisses goodbye to her once-lucrative journalism career.

~~~

Betty puts down Ethel’s tape and sighs heavily. She finished her homework for the evening and would like to spend another couple of hours deliberating and brooding over this case, but she is late for her standing dinner date with her mother. 

Despite living on campus, Betty has dinner with Alice once or twice a week; they have a really close relationship, and Betty is fiercely protective of her.

Alice Cooper lives in a tired house on the outskirts of Riverdale. She has lived there for over five years, having given up their picturesque, stately town house on Elm shortly after Hal passed away from cancer five years ago. 

Alice and Hal had a beautiful, loving relationship that Betty grew up watching with starry-eyes. Hal was a mechanical engineer who worked at the local GM manufacturing plant. He taught Betty everything that she knows about cars. They spent many a weekend together enjoying Hal’s favourite 80’s rock music and tuning, building and modding cars. His passing was the most profound heartbreak that Betty has ever experienced, from which she knows she will never truly recover.

Alice is a private investigator now. Decades of incessant sexism and patronizing behaviour, coupled with Hal’s passing, finally wore her down, and she quit her job at the Sheriff’s department three years ago .

“Hey Mom, I'm home!” Betty says as she walks into the house. 

Alice looks up from her makeshift desk, an unlit cigarette hanging out of her mouth and says, “Did you bring the eggs?”

Betty holds up the carton and places it on the bench. Her mother struggles to remember to shop for herself most weeks. 

Alice nods in thanks. “What's up, honey? You look pissed off.”

“Pissed off?” Betty jokes, taking off her shoulder bag, “Me? Surely not! You must be talking about another furious blonde.”

Alice raises both eyebrows and says with a muffled voice, “Oh it must have been someone else who just stormed into my place and practically kicked down the door.”

“I didn't kick,” Betty protests, “Trust me, you’ll know when I come a-kicking!” 

Alice snorts, and opens the mini fridge next to her desk. She pulls out two beers and hands one to Betty.

Betty takes it, pulls out her keys and levers off the top before taking a swig. “You know I'm still underage, right Mom?” Betty reminds her, tapping on her chest as she says, “I'm nineteen.”

“What gives?” her mother says indifferently. “You don't have to drink it you know, sweet child o’ mine.”

Betty takes a sip and shrugs, “Thanks Axl, I'm quite aware.” 

Alice snorts, but her eyes sparkle. 

“So what happened today that got your knickers in a twist?” Alice asks, leaning back in her desk chair, propping her heeled boots on the desk. Betty imagines it's a stance that she's taken hundreds of times interviewing suspects in the windowless room of the Riverdale Sheriff's department and smiles.

Betty takes the chair closest to her and turns it around so the back is facing her mother and straddles it, leaning over the top, beer in hand. “Well mother,” Betty says slowly, “I just quit my journalist job at the Blue & Gold.”

“Oh why?” Alice says in surprise. “You were really excited about joining Riverdale College’s esteemed newspaper. I'm surprised you gave it up already. Haven’t you only been going to college for nine months or something?”

Betty sighs and rests her cheek on the edge of the chair as she says, “Mom, remember when I was talking to you about that horrid site RateRiverVixens.com?”

Alice raises both eyebrows and gnashes her teeth together audibly. “Yeah, I believe you've mentioned that particular gross site before. Men are such scum. Do you still have your Taser and pepper spray in your bag?”

Betty smiles, “Yes, Mom, I do. Plus you'll be pleased to know that I've been taking self-defence courses at the college’s gym in the evenings, to back up my martial arts, so don't you worry.”

“Oh sweetie,” Alice croons at her, eyes dark, “I will always worry about you.”

Betty shakes her head, “I know, Mom, and I will always worry about you, chasing after crazy criminals jumping bail, tracking down the adulterers and the child abusers.”

“And looking damn fine doing it,” Alice salutes her with her beer. Betty grins, acknowledging that her mother is pretty good looking for her age. She wears her hair in long waves and is constantly dressed head to toe in black and leather garments.

“Have you caught anyone interesting recently?” Betty asks curiously.

Alice barks out a sharp laugh from around her unlit cigarette and says, “Oh yeah there was this one wild guy the other day that thought he could skip town instead of meeting with his parole officer. I tracked him down to the Riverdale Zoo. He was trying to get in the lion’s cage. Poor guy was out of his mind on coke.” Alice shakes her head slightly and then laughs as she says, “I practically brought him in slung over my shoulders and delivered him by hand to the Riverdale Sheriff's department.”

“To Minetta?” Betty asks curiously. 

Sheriff Michael Minetta was one of the main reasons that Alice quit the department all those years ago (“He’s a fucking incompetent asshole! Can’t he see he’s tearing that Southside family apart for no reason other than his personal vendetta against the disenfranchised?” she cried rhetorically one night, punching a hole in the wall in anger). Betty wonders how much lingering distaste there is between them now.

Alice smirks at her nonchalantly, “Yeah. Right to that fucking bastard.”

Betty shrugs, supposing that answers her question.

“I actually stunned him into silence.” Alice laughs, gleefully kicking her heeled boots into the air like a child. “That guy didn't know what hit him. There I was, dressed head to toe in my leather, kicking down the door of the Sheriff's department and delivering him a very high, very large criminal all by my tiny self.” She says the last bit in a mocking voice.

Alice finally takes the unlit cigarette out of her mouth, removes her feet from the desk and leans over it, pointing the neck of her beer bottle at Betty. “Hey, young lady, we were talking about you and your case. Don't think you're going to get out of discussing it with me.”

Betty rolls her eyes. “Fine, mom, we can talk about it.” 

“So, why did you quit the Blue & Gold, honey?” Alice asks her, between mouthfuls of beer. “I know how keen you were to be a part of that whole journalism thing.”

“Well,” Betty says carefully, “Val, the editor, and I have a huge difference of opinion that cannot be overcome. She cares too much about making the administration happy, and I want to investigate the facts. Facts that are currently pointing me towards the Frat boys.”

“Hmm,” Alice says thoughtfully, “So, you quit over what? The fact that you couldn't write the story that she was asking for?”

“That I couldn’t abide being silenced,” Betty clarifies. “They are quashing my investigation for some reason – probably to protect the frats and the wealthy donors – but I can’t stand that elitist bullshit.”

Alice shakes her head slowly. “You must do something about it honey. You need to take this site down for good.”

Betty grins at her mother, but the smile is not one of enjoyment but rather one of determination. “Oh mom, I promise I will do everything in my power to blacklist this stupid site and mess with those Frat idiots.” She sighs heavily and takes a sip of beer. “That aside, what I’m more worried about at the moment is the other case that I’m working on, you know, the video stalker?”

Alice hums absently, but Betty knows that behind that placid expression her mother’s mind is whirring. 

“Why are you worried about it?” Alice asks curiously. “Other than it being a challenging case to crack given none of those girls run in the same social circles.”

“Ethel asked me to post a warning to get the word out,” Betty starts.

Alice nods knowingly, “And now you don’t have the Blue & Gold, so you’re wondering how you can do that and access a wide enough audience?”

Betty sighs heavily. “I was hoping that it would be my standing page space in the Blue & Gold, but Val kind of made that impossible. She wants to bow and scrape to the administration otherwise she will be expelled. I can’t stop. I refuse to stop. I’m a great investigator-,”

“You learnt from the best,” Alice chimes in. Betty’s heart clenches because had her dad been alive he would have said the same thing. He was crazy about Alice.

“And well, that whole River Vixen site just grates on me in the wrong way. I can’t stand that someone can host this on Riverdale College servers without recourse. I don’t like that we have to write what the administration wants…”

Alice snorts at her, and says bluntly, “Are you sure you're ready to be a journalist then, honey? ‘Cause being a political pawn is pretty much your job.”

Betty rolls her eyes and takes another sip of beer. “Yeah, look, you might be right. Who knows? I might just join you in the PI business.”

Alice shakes her head, “Sweetie, you are way too smart and too good to become a basic private investigator. You should really think hard about doing something much more interesting and rewarding with your life. Like trying to join the FBI or something.”

“Yeah, but isn’t that like the last bastion of the system?” Betty points out wryly. Alice snorts in agreement.

There is a moment of silence before Betty asks, “Isn’t your life interesting, mom?” 

Alice’s eyes go soft for a moment as she thinks.

“Do you regret any of your choices?” Betty clarifies.

Alice shakes her head and grins, “Oh, of course not. I don't regret a single thing. Sometimes this job drives me up the wall. Sometimes I get sick of following adulterers around with my SLR, and sometimes I hate that it is barely enough to cover the bills despite how hard I work, but it's so much more exciting and so much more liberating than what I used to do for the Man.”

Betty laughs, “You were ‘the man’ in this scenario.”

Alice rolls her eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Betty smiles at her mother: the fierce, independent, ball-breaking, feminist woman who was raised her single-handedly for the past couple of years and says, “Oh I do. Anyway, for something more light-hearted: have you started reading The Lincoln Lawyer yet?”

“I am on the first page, but you should seal your thoughts in an envelope for us to compare soon.” Alice and Betty read mystery novels in tandem and at the end of each chapter they _seal their moves_ like two chess players and write down their current hypotheses on a piece of paper, slot it in an envelope for the other to keep. At the end of the story they make a giant sticky date pudding, open all the envelopes and crow about who got the right villain first. It’s a time-honoured tradition.

Alice puts down her beer and rubs her hands together. “I was thinking pasta for dinner. Thoughts?”

“Sounds perfect,” Betty says, amused.

They always have pasta.

~~~

Later that night Betty drives to the local speakeasy, La Bonne Nuit, which is located (thankfully) within walking distance from her dorm, to meet Veronica.

As a special gift to Veronica for putting up with Betty for an entire month of room sharing at college, Betty provided her with a mint condition fake ID. Veronica has since made it a point to use it at all opportunities.

Veronica moved from the luxury of her parent’s mansion in New York to backwater Riverdale to attend their tiny Liberal Arts College. 

Veronica jokes that she desperately wanted to get away from her parents’ controlling clutches and their insanely lavish lifestyle (Veronica’s parents are billionaires) and just have a regular college experience where no one knows her by name or face (a sentiment which positively drips with irony because Veronica uses her family name without hesitation to smack-down any boy that pisses her off). 

The first time that Betty and Veronica met, Veronica was dragging her Louis Vuitton suitcases into their dorm room (or rather a group of very attractive men were dragging in Veronica’s suitcases), and Betty was piecing together previously shredded magazines, trying to make sense of the debris left behind in the bottom of a packing box which once held a bloodied baseball bat. 

Veronica took one look at the blonde girl spread over the floor of her new dorm room and laughed delightedly, quickly introducing herself as Betty's new best friend-to-be.

It took her mere moments to warm up to the small brunette, who won Betty over with her with her endless enthusiasm and lurid sexual humour.

Betty sighs and steels herself for the barrage of boy-toys that follow Veronica around like she’s the messiah for their lost libidos, before walking in to Pop’s and down the stairs to the speakeasy below. 

Surprisingly, Veronica is by herself at a table, poring over one of her textbooks with an untouched martini by her side. She looks up upon Betty's entrance and smiles radiantly at her, ushering her over. As Betty approaches, she pushes her books aside to make room for her at the table.

“Bitch!” Veronica says brightly, “I have barely seen you today! What have you been up to? Have you finished the assignment that Grundy set for criminology?”

Betty nods, smiling at Veronica. “Yeah I finished that assignment last night,” she says, “Why? Are you having trouble with it?”

Veronica shakes her head, face scrunched adorably. “Yes and no. I'm really realising that criminology is totally not my thing. You seem to have a natural talent for understanding the depravities of the human mind, but I personally seem to think that economics and finance are more up my alley…”

Betty laughs and slides into the booth opposite Veronica, taking off her heavy shoulder bag and setting it beside her.

“Drinking already?” Betty asks drolly, tapping her fingernails on the table in time to the music, “It's only a Wednesday, Veronica, we've got a long week to go. You told me that you planned to get trashed this weekend.”

Veronica is what one would deem a party animal. If it weren't for Veronica, Betty would spend every single night in her dorm room reading books about profiling or forensic evidence. Veronica constantly pushes her boundaries and forces Betty to actually have a life.

Veronica glances at Betty with a pouty expression and slides the martini across the table. “For you, my dear, seeing as you're the James Bond of us two.”

Betty laughs and takes a sip of the martini, pleased to note that it is very dirty with lots of olive juice, just the way she likes it.

Veronica looks at her, satisfied. She folds her hands on top of the table, leans over and stares at Betty with gleaming eyes. “Now that you've had a sip,” Veronica purrs at her, “You get to listen to what I have to say.”

“Oh crap.” Betty crinkles her nose and stares at the martini glass as if it has betrayed her. “I'm never drinking a martini ever again.”

Veronica laughs, “Don't bullshit me, Betty, I know that this is your ultimate vice.” She pauses for a moment and then says; “Actually, mysteries are your number one vice, followed by me and martinis. So don’t weasel out of it.”

Betty rolls her eyes at Veronica and allows with a regal sweep of her hand, “Okay, what can I do for you, ma’am?”

Veronica takes a short breath and says in a rush, “I think we need to get you laid.”

If Betty was expecting anything to come out of Veronica’s mouth, it was not this. “What?” she says, stupidly.

“You heard me,” Veronica trills, leaning back in the booth with her arms folded. “We've been here for almost a year and you have not had a single guy - or girl - I'm not judging here, over to our room. And, you know me… I’ve had many.”

Betty nods, smirking. Veronica is a man-eater in the best sense of the word. Men seemed to find her confident charms completely irresistible and Veronica gets bored very quickly (“At this rate, I’m going to burn through all the viable men in Riverdale in my first year and then have to branch out to divorcees. It’s such a pity that you’re straight; we could have made a good couple. I could never be bored of you.”). 

Betty sighs and says to her friend, “Look V, there's probably something that you should know about me. I haven't really thought about it because, well, I'm still a virgin.”

Veronica does a surprised double take, her eyes blown wide at this new revelation of Betty's sex life. “What, you?”

Betty laughs a little and crooks an eyebrow in response. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Veronica tilts her head to the side and concedes, “I mean, kind of... I didn't really expect it because you're one of those people who just seems to know who you are and is very comfortable around everyone, so I just assumed that you didn't do it because you didn't care about the boys we met.”

“Well that's a hundred per cent spot-on too,” Betty hums, taking another sip of her well-earned martini. “I think most of the guys here are stuck up douches, and I don't really want to sleep with them in some drunken college experience. It's not really my thing.”

Veronica laughs, “I know that you're not judging me when you say this, but it makes me cackle that you think all guys are assholes. I'm sure we can find you someone who is not.”

Betty chuckles and shakes her head, “Veronica, I'm pretty content with the way that things are. If you want to look for someone for me, then I'm not going to argue with you, but I will warn you that if he's too sweet I will get bored, and if he's too much of an asshole then I will tase him.”

Veronica lets out a hoot of laughter and claps her hands. “Betty, you are the best. Okay, noted, I'll try my best to meet your exact standards. Now, with that settled, do you mind helping me with this criminology assignment?”

Betty smiles over the rim of her martini glass. “Veronica,” she says, “You always know how to play me perfectly.”

Veronica’s responding smirk is calculatedly angelic.

~~~

Later that night as Betty lies in bed listening to her recording of pirate radio show, Viper Radio, she closes her eyes and lets the sultry sounds of Jughead Jones’s voice caress her.

Jughead went to Riverdale High with Betty, but in late April of 2003, during their sophomore year, he moved to Southside High. At the time, Alice mentioned that this move was instigated based on his father’s arrest and his mother returning to Riverdale several years after their divorce to ensure that Jughead and his sister were not put into foster care. It’s been just over three years since she has seen him up close and in person and she’s fairly certain that she has been listening to his radio show since the early days. 

She remembers Jughead from high school; inquisitive, smart and very well read. He was wiry and had beautiful, soft black hair, which curled out from the bottom of his well-worn beanie. She recalls thinking that he was cute. They worked on the school newspaper together before he left. Jughead was always nice to her, albeit shy. He kept to himself a lot and read in between classes. She tried to speak to him a few times, but he always looked at her with a confused or tortured expression that warned her off further interactions. 

Now, she thinks she might even have a crush on Jughead Jones, especially as his persona as King Python on his radio show. He is a gorgeous combination of snarky, insightful and hilarious, making quips in his dark sense of humour that she finds totally entrancing.

One of Betty’s (dirty) little secrets is that she likes to write to Jughead, confessing her feelings for him anonymously. She loves it when he reads these letters aloud on the show because it means that she has reached him, and he has always felt so untouchable to her.

Tonight, it’s one of those fan mail nights. Betty smiles in anticipation in the darkness of her dorm room, listening intently to the recorded cassette on her Walkman.

Betty hears the opening bars to Joy Division’s song Transmission, which has long heralded the start of Viper Radio. After the lyrics _Radio, live transmission_ the song stops.

“So my avid snakes, my poisonous friends,” Jughead croons over the airwaves, “I need to read out some of my favourite fan mail that I've received in the last week. I know you all love this segment.”

“I know I love this segment,” co-host Pretty Poison says softly,but gleefully. Based on Betty’s oh-so-discreet analysis of Jughead’s friends at college, it seems to her that his co-host is a girl named Toni Topaz, who is a tiny, take-no-prisoners kind of lady. Toni is a raging and unapologetic lesbian, and Betty once saw her throat punch a guy in the Riverdale College cafeteria after he insulted her. Jughead and Toni’s on-air chemistry is addictive because she’s blunt, acerbic and loves to rile him up and he’s dark, witty and adorable. 

“Of course you love this segment,” Jughead says with a laugh, “It's because most people who write to me make fun of me.” He puts on a high-pitched and mocking voice, “Dear King Python, I think you’re completely full of yourself and this is not a radio show, but a vanity project.”

Toni cackles in agreement. 

“Well they aren’t wrong, eh? This is a vanity project for your huge…”

“Audience,” Jughead jokes, “Feet?”

“-Fuck-off ego,” Toni finishes with glee. “Anyway, what can I say? I do love to see you squirm. Especially when you read out our favourite scarlet letters.”

Betty feels her heart pound in her chest and her mouth is dry. They're talking about her letters.

“Well,” Toni prompts impatiently, “Give the listening ears what they want! Read it out! I want to see you blush and revel in your discomfort!”

Betty's heart is now racing as she listens to Jughead’s beautiful, awkward chuckle. 

“Fine,” he says with a note of amusement, “I can't deny my listeners the pleasure of experiencing my embarrassment.”

She hears the sound of an envelope opening and Jughead clears his throat.

“The anticipation is killing me!” Toni screeches at him, “Read it out, King Python!”

“Chill, Pretty!” Jughead chuckles and then says roughly, “Fuck, she always nails me.”

“Yay!” cries Toni, excitedly clapping her hands.

Betty wishes that she could watch Jughead's face as he reads her letter. She sometimes dreams about it.

She can hear his soft breathing through microphone, and he awkwardly clears his throat again. “Okay, you asked for it: **I lie awake at night listening to your show on repeat, the whispered tones of your rough voice stroking my body as I bring myself to completion. I want you to kiss me, please pervert me. I am dirty enough? Your hard talk makes me drip in anticipation for you, King Python. That mouth was made to…** ”

“Geez that’s some fan mail though. Best use of Blood Sugar Sex Magik ever conceived,” Toni gasps through laughter, “Dude, she has sent you porn every week for the past year or so, and you still blush like a rose.”

“Fuck off, Poison!” Jughead hisses at her, then he says dreamily, “It’s always the same red paper, the curled calligraphic handwriting. I wonder if she writes this just to mess with me-,”

 _Mmm mess with you,_ Betty thinks.

“- and to be honest I think I’m cool with that. Or does she actually lie awake at night with her fingers inside herself, fantasising about my voice? Which, for the record, I am also into.”

“What do you suppose she is like?” Toni asks him, clearly fishing. “Looks-wise, I mean?”

Jughead’s voice is warning, when he says, “Poison, come on.”

“I’m serious, we all want to know what kind of girl you’re fantasising about at night when you jack off to these red letters,” Toni laughs. Betty feels hot and as if her skin is itching all over as she imagines Jughead pleasuring himself over her words…

_The feeling of power is almost too good._

Jughead makes a strangled sound. 

“She’d have to be -,” she starts. 

“Pretty, come on! Not happening. You’re not giving up my porn preferences on air.” Jughead laughs darkly, but his tone is serious.

Toni chuckles, “Well you know mine. In a phrase: dangerous ladies.”

“Ha, true.” Jughead laughs, “That’s why we didn’t work out. Because I am neither dangerous, nor a lady.”

Toni scoffs, “Pu-lease boy! We didn’t work out for other reasons and you know it.”

Jughead plays the line, “I’m dumb, she’s a lesbian” from Weezer’s song Pink Triangle and Toni snarls, “So the reasons that you weren’t into me was that you were-,”

“Fine! I take your eloquent and well-made point!” Jughead says hastily, laughing a little maniacally. “Not a conversation for when the red light is on.”

“Speaking of red,” Toni says, steering the conversation back to the letters. “Tell me what you think scarlet is like?”

Jughead laughs, “Well… scarlet letter lady, I bet that in real life she's one of those quiet types, one of those shy girls that lets others lead her around, you know? I think this is her way of finding her voice. She’s putting so much effort into the fanfare of this whole charade; maybe she’s super plain? Maybe she’s even one of those stuck up rich kids from the Northside, desperate for attention.”

He plays the line: “You wanna sleep with common people like me?” from the song Common People by Pulp. 

Toni scoffs loudly, “Do you actually believe that, though? Okay, how about this? Tell me what song you think of when you dream and pine after Scarlet?”

There’s a moment of silence and Jughead says, “It changes every week to be honest with you, Poison, it depends on what interaction we’ve had and how I’m feeling about myself.”

“This week?”

Jughead’s voice is light with amusement when he says, “Probably Portishead’s Glory Box.”

“HA!” Toni exclaims loudly, “Fuck it if that isn’t poetic.”

Betty can imagine Jughead rolling his eyes at her. “Not like that, you idiot. I meant more the sultriness and the lyrics, you shameless heathen… anyway. Scarlet, my darling, are you actually out there pleasuring yourself as you listen to me? If so, I can do it so much better for you, so come find me.”

He segues into the song Inside You, by Godhead and Betty’s mind is whirring. 

She imagines him whispering in her ear, arresting her in place: _Come find me._

With a small, stifled gasp she muses, _Of course! Why didn't I think of it beforehand?_

The answer to her media circulation needs: Serpent King Jughead Jones.


	2. small-talk turns to dust in my mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty experiences whiplash from Jughead's personalities.
> 
>  **Chapter title song:** Snow Patrol – Absolute Gravity (1998)  
>  **Date:** Thursday, 27th April 2006

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the love to [redcirce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcirce) and their brilliant ideas and [meditationonbaaal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationonbaaal) for being generally amazing and making this whole story a gazillion times better. 
> 
> I really want to thank [violet1429 (KG1429)](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/violet1429) for all her awesome ideas and literature references to help me make Jughead in his radio segment more intellectually insufferable (in the best way :P). You are a treasure and I am so grateful! Also, thanks for inspiring me to reread _Brave New World_!
> 
> If you're so inclined, check out [Viper Radio Playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4pw4LfrUm0cQ5DRkgvfdmE?si=DybxwnTpRke8whyyy8EOGw)

The following morning when Betty wakes, she turns to Veronica’s side of the room. “Hey V, remember last night when I was talking to you about my problems with the Blue & Gold and this case that I am working on in parallel?” Betty starts, her voice still rough with sleep.

Veronica yawns wide and rolls over in bed, so she can see Betty from across the room. “Yeah, I recall it. What kind of freak is sending these horrible videos to people?”

“Absolutely!” Betty sighs in frustration, rubbing her eyes to rid them of sleep. “So, I was thinking about the answer to my problem… you know the one of how I can warn the women at Riverdale College and also potentially get some answers?”

“Yeah?” Veronica asks.

“You know how I listen to that show, Viper Radio?” Betty returns.

“You write those letters to your crush that you’re too scared to talk to. That sweet guy you liked from high school. Wait.” Veronica sits up in bed to invoke maximum drama. “Oh my god, _shut the front door_. What on earth are you saying to me, Betty Cooper? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re talking about going after the gang leader, Jughead Jones?” she screeches. Betty has previously explained to Veronica her Viper Radio theories. “But, oh my god, isn’t he like, some sort of criminal?”

“Firstly, I don’t have a crush,” Betty informs her. Veronica’s mouth twists in disbelief. “Secondly, heaps of people listen to his show. He will be a vehicle of truth for this case.”

“Criminals!” Veronica cackles. “Well that’s an interesting kink there, my girl. No wonder normal guys don’t get you wet.”

“Veronica!” Betty yells and throws a pillow at her, but her aim is half-hearted, and it lands on the ground two feet in front of Veronica’s bed.

Veronica’s soft laughter reaches her ears. “Are you seriously thinking of asking him?”

Betty props herself up on her elbow and asks casually, “Yeah, why?”

Veronica makes a noise in the back of her throat. “Well, last time I got my car serviced at that place he works because that Paul guy was on holiday-,”

“Owns,” Betty supplies, and Veronica waves her off impatiently.

“Whatever. Have you seen this guy now? I know you went to high school with him and you listen to his show, but he’s totally full of himself. Emo with a god complex,” Veronica says, “And well, you’re…”

Veronica waves her hand at Betty who stares back with indignance. 

“What? A Northsider?” Betty asks with rising hysteria in her voice.

Veronica chuckles, “Yes, but that’s not what I meant, B. Didn’t you tell me just last night that you’d tase any guy who was too much of an asshat? Well, let me assure you that Mr. Serpent King will set off your lust for tasing.”

Betty frowns. She has _observed_ Jughead from afar for the past three years and seen his confidence with a car, albeit from the distance of a long-range lens. She has watched him on campus, trailing from class to class with an absent look on his face. Plus, she’s also heard his intellectual ranting on Viper, his awkward responses to her letters, and his awesome theories about musicians who are also serial killers. 

“He’s probably just putting on an act because he became Serpent King at sixteen,” Betty muses. “He was really shy at school. Although, I don’t think he liked me much because he avoided me at every opportunity. I wonder how he would respond to me now?”

“Three years is a long time, B. I don’t think he’s that guy anymore.”

Betty sighs. 

“Just forget about him and date me, I’m way more interesting.” Betty tilts her head at Veronica’s words, to see her friend’s lascivious grin. She pokes out her tongue in response.

“So clearly we are going down this route. How are you planning on getting his help?”

“Uhhh.” Betty says softly, “I was thinking of just asking him?”

Veronica cracks up with laughter at this. “What, just walk right on up to a tattooed gang leader and flip your little blonde ponytail, bat your eyelashes, and say, ‘Babe I need you’?”

Betty chokes. “Not quite like that!”

“Well, how did you imagine it going?” 

Betty makes an uncomfortable sound. “Maybe I can blackmail him?”

Veronica snorts incredulously, “Are you serious? I bet the moment you try, he swoops in and sends his little snakes after you.”

Betty counters, “I might just follow him around for a while and try to catch him in the act of doing something bad? Although it's probably just easier for me to break into his office for blackmail material or find out where he holds his radio show and put the screws to him a little bit. If you know what I mean?”

“Do you know what you mean?” Veronica doubles over with laughter. “Oh my god, you have to let me come with you, because I really need to watch this train wreck in real time. I will bring popcorn to sustain me through the tension and angst.” She shivers delightedly in anticipation of the drama. 

“Come off it!” Betty hisses at her, but concedes that this Serpent King character could probably eat her alive if he so desired. Especially if he is not the same awkward guy that she used to know, but something much more dangerous. But, Betty has always been attracted to danger, hasn’t she?

Veronica wonders, “Is blackmail really the only route you have to go by?”

Betty sighs and folds over herself in the bed. “What would you suggest?”

“Hmm,” Veronica muses, “You could try other things? Like you could potentially buy him off with food for example?”

Betty recalls Jughead’s love of burgers and fries and thinks that that could be a potential avenue. However, she admits that is not quite as thrilling as torturing him a bit.

“Maybe,” Betty concedes. “I was honestly hoping for something that packed a little more punch.” She makes a jabbing motion with her left fist.

Veronica laughs, “How about honeypot!Betty?”

Betty’s eyes widen at the thought of seducing him. “No way! There is zero chance on this sweet earth that Jughead Jones is going to be my first!”

Veronica grimaces, remembering the conversation from the previous night and concedes, “Oh yeah, I definitely forgot about that point. If you weren’t a virgin, it would be a great way to go down.”

“What?” Betty says a little dramatically, “Sleep with a gang leader?”

“Radio host, you mean.” Veronica waggles both eyebrows and grins. “You’re already picturing it, I can tell.”

“Shut up, V.” She was _not_.

“Ha! So, what are we going to do?” Veronica asks. 

“I guess I will go to the car yard and ask him directly?” 

“Alright, the direct approach!” Veronica cheers. “My car or yours?”

Betty’s eyes widen as she thinks of taking Veronica’s Aston Martin BD9 to the Southside Auto shop again and shakes her head. “My car.”

“Didn’t you tune it recently?” Veronica asks her.

“Yeah, the inside is perfection, but he doesn’t need to know that,” Betty says with a shrug. “I just need him distracted long enough to say yes to me.”

Veronica laughs and rubs her hands together in expectant glee. “Oh boy, this is going to be ah-may-zing. I am literally so excited I cannot tell you.”

Betty rolls her eyes, but she is annoyed to find herself grinning at Veronica’s infectious enthusiasm. 

Veronica crows, “We should go straight after Grundy’s class! But first, let’s pick your outfit. What do you have in your wardrobe that screams Daisy Duke?”

Once Veronica has gotten Betty into some tiny denim cut-offs and a singlet top, she positively _insists_ on making Betty breakfast, informing her that she already has “Scott on it” – whatever that means. 

A few minutes later, Betty finds out exactly what that means, because a man named Scott shows up at their door with a box of fresh produce and a puppy-dog look in his eyes. 

“Oh, thanks Scott,” Veronica acknowledges with a winning smile, taking the box from his hands. “Betty, today I am going to treat you to smashed avocado on sourdough toast.”

Betty snorts softly. Before college, Veronica never made food for herself (or anyone else) in her life. As the progeny of billionaires, she has been trailed around by servants and helping hands. In coming to college, Betty had to show her how to use a toaster. 

Their dorm has a small kitchen in which Betty has spent many a meal slowly explaining basic cooking principles to the rich girl. At the start, Veronica performed all her culinary duties with utter ignorance but maximum enthusiasm, which was stressful but endearing to watch. After several meals of soggy pasta, eggshell-filled breakfasts, and charcoal toast, something in Veronica just _clicked._

Suddenly, dishes that Betty taught her were “fully Lodged-up” (Veronica chose that term because it sounded filthy), and her simple French toast dish was “augmented” with artisanal candied pecans, the finest mascarpone, and “actual brioche, _Betty, you know, from France._ ” (Cue affected hand gesture and eye roll to illustrate general superiority). Betty’s guilty pleasure for instant ramen was replaced with an “infinitely superior product” flown in from Japan, complete with little accompanying sachets of _furikake_. 

As Betty stares at the box filled with fresh avocados and sourdough, she also notices two tubs of labneh and dukkah. Scott also included a small bottle of pomegranate molasses and virgin olive oil from Italy. Betty smirks and rolls her eyes in admiration at the force of nature that is Veronica Lodge. 

“Thanks, Scott,” Veronica repeats, shooing him away with a deliberate bright tone and a careless flick of her wrist. 

He stands at the doorjamb, a dejected expression on his face. 

“Oh, right,” Veronica says as she pulls Betty out of the room and closes the door behind her. “You’re waiting for a tip.”

Betty bites the inside of her mouth to stop herself from laughing at the ridiculous scene in front of her, wherein Veronica rifles through her purse and pulls out a crisp twenty. She slides it into Scott’s breast pocket and winks. “Keep the change.”

They leave poor Scott behind, with Veronica oblivious as usual to the hell she has wrought on the unsuspecting man’s heart. 

Breakfast is delicious, though.

~~~

Criminology with the silver fox Professor Grundy is Betty’s favourite class, and it’s not just because he actively states that she is the “most gifted student” that he’s ever had the pleasure to teach, but it’s because Betty genuinely loves the subject matter. 

Grundy is positively arresting when he addresses the class on today’s topic: Social Disorganisation Theory. 

“So, this is the theory that places credence on the endogenous factors that are directly attributable to the environment in which someone was born, or grew up in,” Grundy announces, pacing the front of the class. His Teacher’s Aid, Bret, looks on with starry eyes. “The premise of this theory is that the residents in a particular location are more or less likely to engage in crimes based on the social structures of their neighbourhood. It is important to note that this theory does not extend beyond petty crime.

“The challenge with this theory and the correlation that is provided by the social studies performed on this topic is that social structures are endogenous to a location. It is not only the people who live there that form a social structure, but the urban design, the attitudes of law enforcement, and the way the courts and politicians handle their citizens. This is obviously before we even get to the topic of gender or race.”

Grundy continues, “Unfortunately, we have to stop there for today, but please reach chapter thirteen and complete your profiling assignment. Class dismissed. Oh, except for you Miss Cooper. Could you please remain behind for a moment?”

Betty looks at Veronica next to her and jokes, “I’ll meet you after class for some petty crime?”

“Riverdale is a terrible neighbourhood,” Veronica sniffs indignantly behind her trademarked smirk. “Filled with such riff-raff.”

Betty playfully flicks Veronica with her fingers and walks down the auditorium steps to speak to Professor Grundy. 

“Betty,” he says cheerfully, stacking his books. He collects the plastic sheets from the overhead projectors with a muttered, “Some lecturers like to steal the supplies.” Then, he turns to her and says with a smile, “What is this I hear about you quitting the Blue & Gold?” 

Betty winces and hesitates before saying, “I just felt I wasn’t being completely listened to with my analyses.”

Grundy looks thoughtful for a moment and then says, “Well, if you still want a job, how about you become my research assistant?”

Betty looks to Bret who is hovering nearby, his face mutinous, and says, “Oh I thought that Bret would be your RA?”

Grundy casts a careless glance at Bret and says, “He is my TA. it’s completely different.” He waves his hand. “Bret, you can go. Class is over.”

Bret’s eyes are daggers pointed in her direction as he walks out. 

Grundy turns to her, eyes shining, “Betty, please be my research assistant. You’re the brightest, smartest student I’ve ever come across in my career. I would love to be your official mentor and help you get into whatever graduate position you choose. And don’t worry about Bret; he will still be around, but in more of an administrative capacity. I want to save your brain for more important things.”

Betty can’t help but feel flattered by her favourite teacher and smiles back. “Of course, how could I say no to that?”

Grundy folds his arms. “You can’t. I’ll email you with the details shortly for us to formalise this proposal.”

Betty grins at him, excited by the prospect. “Sounds like a plan.”

~~~

Later, Betty and Veronica pull up at the Southside Auto shop in Betty’s 1993 Dodge Viper, which is a lurid shade of custom green. 

When Hal died, he left Betty his car (Alice rolled her eyes in endearment and amusement at this significant bequeathing), and out of respect to both the Viper and her dad, she spends a lot of time on the weekend working on improvements, listening to old tapes of Jughead’s show. 

Hal often praised the Viper as the “home run of the American automotive industry” in the same breath as calling it (with fondness) “a jet engine strapped to a bathtub”. He adored the car. It was designed with the much-more expensive Cobra in mind and arrived fresh off the production line with a hardtop and windows for assembly as an afterthought. Hal loved the feat of engineering of the aluminium V10 engine despite the car’s slap-dash assembly (for example, the cassette player had a Chrysler logo on it). He crooned over the gauges and the extreme left pedal positioning (“That authentic race car feel,” he extolled on several occasions, eyes shining), and Betty imagined that in a different life her father would have liked to be a NASCAR driver. 

Together, Hal and Betty changed the intake, pistons and upgraded the gears to 377s (to make it faster, of course), but kept the original tiny muffler to maintain the snarl for that all-American muscle car vibe. For better or for worse, once Betty mastered the basics of driving, Hal taught her how to properly handle the V10. 

Betty feels a bolt of excitement go through her, followed by insane nausea as she thinks of literally walking into the Serpent’s nest to speak to Jughead.

“Everyone is staring at your car Betty,” Veronica murmurs to her out of the corner of her mouth, voice vibrating with excitement in anticipation of the spectacle Betty is about to make of herself. “Maybe the DB9 would have been less conspicuous.”

Betty’s mouth is dry, and she thinks that maybe Veronica could be right. At least Veronica’s car is gunmetal grey, rather than bright green with racing stripes (Hal had a very interesting mid-life crisis, filled with leather jackets and rev-head fantasies). 

_Am I certifiably insane?_ Betty thinks to herself, as all the workers turn to stare at her and Veronica in her Dodge. 

They both get out of the car and stare around the yard. One of the guys wolf-whistles, and Betty feels embarrassed already and stupid for not wearing something a little more conservative. 

_Damn Veronica and damn Jessica Simpson’s legs._

A quick glance at Veronica shows her immeasurable pleasure at the situation and Betty snorts softly. 

A man approaches her. He has soft, shoulder length hair and piercing green eyes. Betty recognises him instantly: Joaquin DeSantos. Based on her casual perusal of Jughead’s closest acquaintances she has surmised that he is gay, has a record for some drug related incident and is a passable mechanic. 

“Hey,” she says clearly, pulling at her ponytail in sheer awkwardness. “I’m looking for Jughead Jones.”

“Who’s asking?” asks Joaquin, green eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

“Betty,” she responds. “I don’t know if he knows me, though.”

A large muscly guy covered in tattoos walks up to her and places a hand on her shoulder. She almost jumps out of her skin but thankfully keeps a pleasant smile on her face. He has a tattoo of a Southside Serpent on his neck. 

Sweet Pea. 

He runs the auto shop with Jughead and is an excellent mechanic. The guy has a reputation for starting brawls just for fun and has been known to feature at the open mic night at the Whyte Wyrm. Betty once overheard from a deputy that Sweet Pea once hospitalised a guy who insulted his poetry during one of the open-mic events. According to the same deputy, Sweet Pea is the most charming man in Riverdale, and they spent the whole night of his lock up chatting about cars and drinking Bud. 

“Hello, darling, can I help you?”

Betty bites her lip and nods. “I’m here to see Jughead.”

Sweet Pea is tall and good-looking, which is even more annoying up close. He turns his head and yells, “Jug!”

She watches as Jughead saunters over to her, towelling his hands to rid himself of the grease. It has been three years since she has seen him this _close_.

She loses all moisture in her mouth. 

Betty notes that her long distance nonchalant observations do not compare to seeing him within _touching distance_. 

She hears herself say his name and hates the breathlessness in her voice. His eyes widen slightly as he looks at her. Does he remember her? She turns to face him fully, Sweet Pea still alarmingly close to her as she stares into Jughead’s fathomless eyes.

“Can I help you?” he says, so far into her personal space it’s making her uncomfortable in too many ways to count. She can’t read the look on his face, and it worries her. 

“This is Betty,” Sweet Pea announces. 

Jughead nods, his Adam’s apple ticking up once. 

“Thanks, Sweet Pea,” he says in a weird voice. “I can take it from here.”

“Sure thing, _Serpent King_ ,” Sweet Pea says in a pointed tone. Betty watches as Jughead’s jaw clenches, and he straightens his shoulders in response.

Sweet Pea makes an acquiescent sound before walking off. Veronica watches him leave with a calculating expression on her face. 

“Can I help you, Betty?” he repeats, his voice pitched low so that only she can hear. He’s standing so close that she can smell him. She wants to rub herself all over him like a cat. 

“Um,” she says, her brain deserting her for a moment. He waits with both eyebrows raised, gaze trained on her face, expression one of disbelief. His eyes are absurdly blue. 

“You want me to look at your car?” he hazards, gesturing awkwardly to the car. 

Veronica tilts her head back and forth as if she’s trying to say: _What the hell is up with you? Do something, literally anything at this point!_

“Yes please.” She inclines her head toward her car because if she moves any closer she’s going to touch him without question or permission.

“A ‘93 Dodge Viper,” he says, eyes glowing as he says the word _Viper_. “Yours?”

She nods. “Of course.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her. “Really?”

She folds her arms across her chest and tosses her ponytail in annoyance. “Yes! Why is that so hard to believe?”

He shakes his head, not meeting her eyes. “Not something I imagine a Northsider riding around in, to be completely frank.”

Betty feels her lips twitch and is dying to tell him that she’s the one who keeps it in such top-notch condition. “Well, I do look damn good behind the wheel.”

At this, she startles a smirk out of Jughead. He still refuses to meet her gaze. “Yeah, I bet you do.”

Veronica mouths, “Oh my god! Go honeypot!Betty!” And Betty wants to slap her own face and melt into the ground at her friend’s impressed look.

Jughead stares between them both, managing an expression that is simultaneously amused and disappointed. “Well, let me just check under the hood and see what’s going on, and then I can give you a timeline for the tune up.”

Betty bites her lip to stop herself from grinning and pops the hood for him. The Dodge’s bonnet is weird for two reasons: One, it releases from the front and two, it anchors on a single front strut, meaning that it _opens inwards._ Jughead watches her with an incredulous expression as she lifts up the front and then pulls up the hood with a flourish. 

He leans over to check out her car. 

She definitely does not check out his ass. 

Moments later, she hears a whispered _Jesus_ , and then he stands upright again, throwing the greasy towel over his shoulder. She can’t keep her eyes off his arms and the way they flex. So much better up close.

“Are you playing a prank on me, Northside?” Jughead asks.

Betty’s heart stammers in her chest, and she tears her gaze away from his arm. “Hmm?”

Jughead smirks and raises both eyebrows, eyeing the passing Serpents cautiously. “Beautiful, this car is in pristine condition.” 

She can feel herself blushing because he has inadvertently praised her skills, but she tries not to look at Veronica who is biting her lip suggestively and making aggressive thrusting motions with her hips. Someone across the yard whistles, presumably at Veronica, because she’s the only one moving, and she leans casually on the car and blows a kiss in the direction of the whistler. 

“Who did it for you? Paul in the Northside?” Jughead asks, arms folded. “You sweet types usually go there.” He licks his lips, and Betty is entranced (Torn between thoughts such as _Where is the lovely, shy guy from high school?_ and _Will he let me lick his lips, I wonder?_ ). “We’re a little too _edgy_ here.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” Betty breezes. “Actually, I did it.” 

Jughead teases, “You, Northside?”

Her whole body fizzes in response to a direct challenge. She straightens her back and says with an arrogant smile, “Try me.”

“Engine?”

“Eight litre and ten cylinder, one of the first commercial petrol vehicles was this Dodge here, did you know?” Betty says, loving the chance to show off. “Four hundred horsepower with so much torque it’s basically a death trap.” 

Jughead’s lips twitch. “Oh yeah? Like the thrill of more thrust? A bit of danger? A motor that really pulls?” 

Betty nearly whimpers as his delicious words curl around her. 

“Let’s not forget the raw power.” She cocks her head to the side, ponytail swinging and continues, “Did you know that in the first year of the release of this car, half of them were totalled? This is the most dangerous sports car ever made.”

“Yeah, this car doesn’t know the meaning of neutral gear, so you twitch your foot wrong and that beast is heading into a tree.” Jughead snorts, fighting a smile with every effort. “I know what you mean, though. It’s hard to forget while you’re riding something that...”

“Wild?” Betty supplies. 

Jughead hums in response, eyes dark.

Betty almost chokes as she feels her nervous energy pool at her core. Veronica makes a strangled sound, like she is dying (of laughter or sexual tension, Betty is unsure). 

“The thrill of it - it’s all I can think about,” she hears herself say and watches Jughead’s expression morph from curious to aroused.

“Oh?” He says, lip curling. He pauses for a moment, and Betty holds her breath. “So is that why you’re here?”

“Huh?” Betty asks, confused.

“Are you here because you want a job?” Jughead says offhand, biting the inside of his mouth, presumably to prevent himself from laughing. 

Betty shakes her head and tries to focus. “Actually, no, I wanted to ask you for a favour.”

“Oh?” he repeats, and the word twists around Betty making her feel things she’s never fully explored. “What can I do you for?”

_You can do me for free, Jughead Jones._

“I actually want to ask you to put me on your radio show,” she says in a rush before she blurts out what’s in her pervy little mind.

Jughead starts briefly, and Betty thinks she sees a look of intrigue mixed with disappointment flit across his face when he says, “What radio show? I don’t have a radio show.”

She rolls her eyes. “I quit the Blue & Gold fighting misinformation, and I need a platform. So can you help me?”

Jughead laughs at her. “You've got to be kidding me, right? I don't even know what radio show you speak of.” 

Betty walks up very close to Jughead and tilts her head, so she’s looking directly into his eyes. If she rocked forward on her toes, she would brush her lips against his. She drums the bonnet of her car with her nails and says, “Viper, I know you know what I mean.”

He shakes his head, eyes darting around the yard. His voice is low and firm when he says, “No, I don’t want to.”

“Don’t want to what? Help me?” Betty asks in shock.

“Well, I can’t help you with that,” Jughead whispers. He shrugs, a small smirk on his face and says, “But if you do happen to have any more _car trouble_ , you can have my number.”

He holds out his hand for her cell. 

Betty hears Veronica choke behind her, and she slowly gives him her phone, as if in a trance.

She watches as he puts it in and hands it back to her, lips twisted as he stares past her with narrowed eyes.

“Call me.”

~~~

“Well bend me over and fuck me with a frying pan,” Veronica whoops irreverently as she and Betty speed back to campus in the Dodge. Betty makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat. 

The brunette continues, “You two looked like you were going to _bang one out_ on the fucking hood of your car. I nearly died watching you. ME! Of all people! And you know very well that I’ve had sex on the hood of a car at least four times, if memory serves. Or was it five?”

Betty splutters inelegantly and tries to keep her eyes on the road in front. Putting aside the fact that _she_ nearly melted, she has _never_ acted like that in front of anyone before.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” she screeches impatiently, slamming her hands on the steering wheel as her cassette player pumps out Love and Memories by O.A.R, “I mean he just _looked_ at me, and I practically dissolved in front of him!”

Veronica cackles. “Yeah, but the look in his eyes was like ‘oh yes, do me real hard,’ and girl, you could have had him melting in your hands if you brought back the Betty sass I know you are filled with. Or, you could have had him literally at your feet if you tased him.”

“I was so surprised that I couldn’t speak, Veronica!” Betty reminds her to the soundtrack of Veronica cracking up with glee and slapping her hand repeatedly on the dash. “I never expected him to act like _that_! He’s so different from high school.”

“First time I have seen a guy render you speechless. You’re usually quippy and fast.” Veronica sighs, “Maybe he cast a spell on you? Guy still looks like a weird skinny emo to me, so I don’t get the allure. In hindsight, I am so glad I didn’t bring popcorn, because I would have choked and died. Hm, but then maybe Sweet Pea could have saved me, so there’s a missed opportunity for some free mouth to mouth? Now _that guy_ has a body.”

Betty shrieks over Veronica’s contemplations, “Do you think Jughead could tell that I was into him?” 

Veronica gasps through a laugh, “If he couldn’t tell, then he’s an idiot because you almost _jumped_ him!”

“I don’t know what came over me, Veronica!” Betty wails. “I felt like I was possessed! Seriously I need to be committed!”

“And the car flirting just _killed_ me! Name a better nerdy comedy duo, I’ll wait.”

Betty pulls up at a red light and smacks her forehead on the steering wheel. A group of female co-eds pull up in a cute blue car next to Betty and Veronica. The girls stare into the front windows, pulling disappointed faces when they see the women inside. 

Veronica snorts, “Does that happen to you all the time?”

“What? Nearly losing my virginity in a car yard in front of a notorious gang with their leader or being checked out by sorority girls?” Betty says sardonically.

Veronica hoots with laughter. “I mean, now that you say it, both.”

“This car is quintessentially masculine, and the engine is seriously powerful, so people mistake me for a guy all the time.” Betty smirks and says, “I love throwing people off.”

“Especially Jughead, though, right? You’ve been writing him love letters for years now,” Veronica points out. Her voice turns singsong and taunting. “You love to hear him get flustered over you.”

“Have not!” Betty protests, feeling horribly caught. “Do not!”

“Whatever, smutty letters.”

Betty sighs and changes the subject, not wanting to think about what in the devil’s name possessed her to write the first letter all those years ago. “Such a pity he doesn’t want to help me.”

“Gah! But he does want to help you babe. He wants to help you to your first orgasm,” Veronica purrs, winking suggestively.

“Get screwed bitch, I’ve had an orgasm before!” Betty spits at Veronica’s waggling eyebrows. 

"Thank god for vibrators, right?" Veronica cackles. “But yeah, shame about the radio show. What are you going to do now?”

Betty thinks for a moment and says sweetly, “A combination of blackmail, bribery, and flirtation?”

Veronica’s eyes are misty as she looks at Betty with love. “Oh, my darling Betty is growing up so fast.”

Betty flips her the bird, grinning like a fool.

~~~

**Viper Radio, 8-9pm**

“You mentioned last week in our book chat that you were getting back into some old sci-fi classics. What are you reading this week, Pretty?” Jughead asks on air.

“One of the best dystopian novels going around: _Brave New World_ ,” Toni announces proudly.

Jughead hums in agreement. “Absolutely. For a while, there was this discussion of which dystopian reality would spring forth from the Second World War and the subsequent Cold War – the one described by Huxley or Orwell.”

Toni snorts, “As a side note, I don’t get how we call it the Cold War, when it was really a dick measuring contest between us and the Russians on foreign turf. Those foreign countries experienced actual war.”

“That’s so true,” Jughead groans.

“Ugh, I could bitch all day about history being written by the victor, or a man and how this propaganda nightmare has infiltrated our every day,” Toni whines in a very _Jughead_ tone. “So Orwellian.”

“Yes Poison, you are right! And I could bitch all day about the use of superheroes like Captain America to help distribute that message to children and brainwash the next generation,” Jughead adds.

Toni plays the first verse of Basket Case by Green Day.

Jughead laughs at her song choice and sings, “It all keeps adding up, I think I’m cracking up!”

“Dude, you cracked long ago,” she quips. “But anyway: Huxley. What I love about this future is that he is so set on genetic engineering paving the way – that the society could use science to cultivate itself in the ideal image.”

“Wasn’t he really into eugenics?” he asks, “I think I read somewhere that he stopped talking about it during the Second World War.”

“I’ll bet. I think eugenics was really in vogue for a time,” Toni says. “Look, I don’t have to agree with what he writes to expand my mind. Plus the narrative is distinctly different from the strict Orwellian horror of _Nineteen Eighty-Four_. It’s more -.”

“Deterministic?” Jughead supplies thoughtfully. “As in, most dystopian futures focus on the suffering/hedonism dichotomy? All the good ones focus on how we can police desire and sexuality.”

“Are we living in this dystopia already?” Toni jokes sarcastically.

Jughead continues, “Mind you, I am blatantly ignoring Wells here. Guy seems to think human nature can be overcome, which to me, makes it more of a fantasy than sci fi.” He heaves a dramatic sigh. “Anyway, this book was shaped by the idea that everyone can have everything and how that takes away all meaning. Nothing matters without meaning.”

“Aaaaand he’s back to existential nihilism, folks,” Toni interjects. “But I agree with you on your decadence and austerity contrast in the story. Which, as we know, in Brave New World is represented by Lenina and her normalised and unabashed promiscuity versus John’s puritanical views and self-flagellation.”

“Bear in mind that Huxley wrote this in the Great Depression and he was very anti-America,” Jughead points out. “He was concerned with the creeping weeds of materialism and consumerism that fuelled social discord and disparity, so he wrote a society in which everyone wanted for nothing, and everyone belonged to everyone.”

Jughead plays the pre-chorus of Bloc Party’s Helicopter, and he and Toni sing the line, “Stop being so American” in the odd timing.

“Mmm, he was very obsessed with economics, wasn’t he?” Toni muses when they let the song run quietly in the background. “Plus, he was highly disillusioned with politics at the time.”

“I mean, it’s not as if politics have improved,” Jughead snarks. “We have Bush Jr. and his fucking Patriot Act.”

“Two terms!” mocks Toni. 

“Life is still all about surveillance and control. It’s just that genetic engineering needs some years to improve until we get to _GATTACA_ ,” Jughead says, “Plus when AI improves, it can take over and pitch society into a dystopia based on technical stranglehold. It will be like Microsoft, but dramatically worse.”

“Do you think society is doomed to have another Great Depression?” Toni asks him.

Jughead makes a non-committal noise. “Probably. Maybe even soon, who knows for sure? What I do think is that humans are condemned to repeat the same patterns because we never learn. There’s an economist called Minsky who has a theory that market collapse is inevitable. It will be our fault because the more long term stability we have, the more willing we are to take risks. Look at everyone harping on about the housing market now, ‘Oh it couldn’t _possibly_ fail!’. I call bullshit. Of course it can fail. It’s because any system built on human behaviour is inherently flawed. All our risk taking compounds. Then, something happens to destabilise the system and like a house of cards, everything crumbles.”

“That’s a smug-as-fuck theory,” Toni says and Jughead chuckles. “So we have no collective control, and we are in a doom loop of shitty behaviours? And the only way out is either mind control or changing our genetic script?”

“Pretty much the delightful combination of fucking with nature and nurture as suggested by Huxley,” Jughead replies. “It’s a smug theory because it’s right but unhelpful.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Toni sasses and then exclaims, “Ow! Stop throwing shit at me.”

“It’s just balled up paper, Pretty, stop being so dramatic,” Jughead teases. “So what do you think will eventuate from Huxley’s prophetic words? What dystopian reality will take us into the future no matter what?”

“Good question, Python. I think that society will always concern itself with how women use their bodies,” Toni spits. “Huxley was ahead of his time, and he thought that the invention of the contraceptive would allow us to be more promiscuous without judgement.”

“But this hasn’t happened,” Jughead declares.

“Precisely,” Toni agrees. “I think there will always be a person out there who thinks they can tell me what to do and with whom I can sleep.”

With a dramatic sigh, she says, “For that, I’m going to play one of my favourite songs, Celebrity Skin by Hole.”

“You and Courtney Love,” Jughead says fondly.

When they return after a musical interlude, Toni starts, “I’m almost afraid to hear the answer to this, King, but what insufferable book are you reading at the moment?”

Jughead coughs, “Ahhh, _The Unbearable Lightness of Being_.”

“Yeesh,” Toni grouses. “That sounds about right. Even the title of that is unbearable. Why the fuck are you reading something so angst-ridden?”

Jughead makes a musing sound. “Well, I both hate and love this book because the whole story is an incredible miscommunication of literally everything. Meaning is ascribed to coincidence, and the whole book is a painful yet beautiful look into the complexity and messiness of human relationships.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Toni whispers, but her voice sounds impressed.

Jughead breezes, “Also, I love the idea that contrary to Nietzsche’s theory that life repeats itself, Kundera is firmly in the camp that humans get one life and that is both beautiful and terrible depending on the character’s perspective.”

“Okay this is too much for me,” Toni whines. “Can we stop treading water here? We can pick this up another week when I have the headspace for your philosophical ramblings.”

“Fine, fine,” Jughead cedes with a chuckle. “Do you remember why I started this show, Poison?”

Toni sighs, “Did I fuck up scheduling and put in a segment for moony-eyed reminiscing rather than the hard core bangers I so desired? It’s Thrash it up Thursday, come on, man!”

Toni plays the chorus sounds to “Smash it Up” by The Damned which has the spoken words “Oooh Thrash it up” courtesy of her and Jughead.

“Definitely the bangers. What do you want to start with?”

“ _Down with the Sickness_. Oh, fine, King, I’ll indulge you. Talk hard to me about your walk down memory lane.”

“So why did we start the show?” He prompts her.

“Well you started months before I joined, as I know.” Toni says thoughtfully. “I remember you being really shy at the start, but listening to your words it was like - wow. You’re super eloquent, funny as all hell, and such a fucking pervert. Yeah, I’ve seen you sniff those red letters when you think I’m not watching. What do you think you’re going to be able to bloodhound your way to this woman? But you just kept it all bottled inside.”

“I had crazy social anxiety actually,” Jughead says candidly. “I could barely speak to anyone. So, I started this show by way of helping myself get over it.”

Toni laughs, “Well, it fucking worked dude, because you are playin’ and slayin’.”

“Ah yep. Totally." Jughead barks an awkward laugh. "I mean, of _course_ I am. But I bet they wouldn’t know that I even have this show.” His voice turns low and dangerous. “They’re just reacting to _that_ persona. Everyone loves _that_ version of me, and the human suit that houses my brilliance.”

“So modest, babe,” Toni scoffs. “But what a human suit!”

Toni says, “Ow, dude!” As if Jughead had smacked her lightly in indignation. 

“You’re a lesbian. you shouldn’t be checking me out like that.”

“I can check out who I want. You can’t put out a moratorium on my gaze.” Toni’s voice taunts in singsong.

“Oooh, check out that fifty-cent word. Poison, been reading lately?” he teases.

Toni hisses at him, “Fuck you, man, I am both a tech genius and actually literate. Go me! Also, it just so happens that I am trying to get to some lacy Northsider g-strings.”

“And the quickest way to their beds is through poetry?” Jughead jokes.

“Better than hacking into their computers or catfishing them,” Toni points out. “Or so I hope. I’m yet to see the results.”

“Poetry never worked for me. If only I could be as cool as you,” Jughead informs her and starts to play a song, the sound of distorted guitars filling the airwaves. “Probably because I’m a freak of nature.”

Toni snorts, recognising the song as Freak by Silverchair, “Nice one, King. You have a way with words. Talk hard, fuck hard, ride hard.”

"Bite me, Poison,” Jughead snarls.

A moment of silence and then, “Ow, not literally!”


	3. you know i'm here waiting for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Veronica hang out on the weekend. Some case progress is made.
> 
>  **Chapter title song:** Franz Ferdinand – Take Me Out (2004)  
>  **Date:** Friday, 28th April 2006 – Sunday, 30th April 2006

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO MUCH for your love on the first two chapters, you really made my week <3  
> I hope you all continue to enjoy! 
> 
> A million hearts to [redcirce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcirce) and [meditationonbaaal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationonbaaal)
> 
> As usual, the link to the [Viper Radio Playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4pw4LfrUm0cQ5DRkgvfdmE?si=DybxwnTpRke8whyyy8EOGw) \- thanks to everyone for the feedback on this! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

“Ugh, I am so hung-over,” Veronica complains when she awakens late Saturday morning. Betty is curled over her casework, playing Last Nite by the Strokes on her Discman. “Why did you let me have those last three jaeger bombs?”

Betty looks up from her notes, pulls off her headphones and scoffs, “You called me a ‘cruel, unfeeling bitch’ who was ‘hell-bent on annihilating all the fun left in the world’ when I tried to stop you, remember?”

Veronica is the most competitive person that Betty has ever had the pleasure of knowing. Stack a couple of drinks in her hand and she starts issuing the most ridiculous bets with anyone she deems too arrogant. She loves to rip the metaphorical rug right out from underneath any man who thinks he can best Veronica Lodge. Many times Veronica has mentioned her delight in watching the “wind in their sails turn into a cyclone and capsize them”. Naturally, she is the cyclone in this analogy.

Last night was no exception. Veronica dragged Betty along to a heinous singles mixer (a pimps and hos party, as if anything could be more _cringe or cliché_ ) and after swatting away guys left, right and centre, Veronica broadcasted a bet to the room: Strip Texas Hold’Em. Betty watched in amusement as the college boys scrambled for a chance to see Veronica Lodge strip to her unmentionables or – _gasp_ \- more! She listened to their incessant and desperate chatter as Veronica handed Betty the deck of cards and gestured regally for the poor sods to take their seats. 

As usual, the game ended with a bored Veronica shooting jaeger bombs for added drama surrounded by eight naked and profusely blushing lads. 

Betty is always impressed with Veronica’s incredible poker face, and that despite how drunk she is, her talent for getting men naked through competitive sports shines through. 

“Oh no, I can’t believe I called you that!” Veronica laments and scrubs her hands over her face, causing her eyeliner to stretch down her cheeks. “I am so sorry, Betty! You know I love you.”

Betty’s lips twist into a smile when she remembers drunk-off-her-face Veronica from last night hanging from her shoulders and slurring through red-painted lips, “You’re my favourite person in the whole world Betty Cooper, can I marry you? Forget about beanie boy!” 

She replies, “I know, Veronica, I love you too.”

Veronica yawns and runs her fingers through her tangled hair. “Shall we go for our usual?”

Betty laughs lightly. “Are you sure that you can eat without throwing up?”

Veronica tries to sit up straighter in her bed but then moans and clutches her head. “Make the world stop running circles around me immediately!”

“Go have a shower, V. I can smell the alcohol seeping out of your pores from here,” Betty quips. “And then I’ll drive us to Pop’s, okay?”

“Ah, wait,” Betty interrupts her own idea. “I have to go to mom’s afterwards and help her tune her car. Do you want to come with me, or should I drop you back here to do homework afterwards?”

Veronica gives her a look and proclaims with all the airs of a socialite, “I am in no state to do homework today, B. I would much rather drink beer with your mother on her lawn while watching you tune her car.”

Betty rolls her eyes and snarks, “Yeah, that’s why you and Alice get along so well.”

Veronica grins and sighs longingly, “She does love me, doesn’t she?”

“Alice loves a strong woman,” Betty says. “I think she’s trying to amass an army of us to take over the patriarchy one quiet Sunday while everyone is at church.”

Veronica giggles and then clutches her head. “Okay, let me go shower and try to make myself less _indecent_.”

“Ha! Good luck with that,” Betty jokes, and Veronica flips her the bird. 

~~~

Veronica and Betty have breakfast every Saturday at Pop’s. 

Veronica likes to set up at a very specific booth so that she can scope out the “talent” (Betty always snorts at this). They often sit there for hours talking about life, drinking coffee, and playing card games. Sometimes, Pop Tate comes over and sits with them for a round, filling up their coffee cups and sharing Riverdale gossip. Despite knowing very few people in Riverdale (yet having slept with a lot of them) Veronica is very _in the know_ with all the sordid details of the town. 

It was in this booth that Veronica and Betty discussed the aftermath of their most raucous college experiences. 

There was the time that Betty was rudely awakened by a guy in star-spangled glittery underwear serenading Veronica with an atrocious acoustic version of Are You Gonna Be My Girl by Jet. 

The worst part was that Veronica wasn’t even _in the room_ because the night before she decided to make her “dreams come true” with an all-girls threesome. Betty lost her cool at the ill-timed suitor singing the line “she’s so sweet with her get-back stare” and threw Veronica’s stilettos at him, yelling at him to scram. Veronica didn’t even notice her shoes were missing. All that wasted effort. 

One time Veronica decided she wanted to take Betty out for a treat, and Betty assumed (erroneously) that she meant for a snack at Pop’s and was embarrassed to be forced into a sketchy downstairs adult store to find a sex toy. It turns out that to Veronica, vibrators are “treats”. Now, Betty has to agree with her.

There was the night that Veronica dragged along a highly reluctant Betty to an orgy. Veronica got so bored during the event that she fell asleep halfway through (“I am from New York, Betty,” she sassed the next day, silk eye mask still over her face.). Betty spent the whole night doing her homework in an adjacent room, Discman on full blast to drown out the grunts. Around midnight she was rudely interrupted by a naked girl asking Betty to take a snoozing Veronica from the party _and never come back._

There was the time that Veronica and Betty tried to rush a sorority (at Veronica’s unrelenting petition to add drama into their lives). Veronica got so incensed with the way that the girls were talking about Betty and her _Southside adjacent_ background that she poured a whole bucket of punch over Midge’s head while singing Wannabe by the Spice Girls at the top of her lungs and intentionally off-key. 

Then, there was every discussion of every bad date ever. The time Veronica walked all over a guy’s back in her stilettos for cash. The time Veronica let a guy massage her feet for money (not the same guy, interestingly enough). The time that she tried to convince an engineer to build her a sex swing in their dorm room before Betty tore it down, and the time that she tried being a financial dominatrix for a week (“It’s so much like work, Betty, too tedious!”).

Then, there were all the times that they were interrupted at Pop’s by these same guys, and Veronica would always say with gentleness, “I am so sorry, but we had a one night deal, remember? We discussed this.” Those poor boys would slink off with their tails between their legs, and Veronica would sigh and say either, “se jodió” or “Ah, la vie: c’est le bordel,” to which Betty would nod in agreement as if she understood (when she did look them up one time, she could not stop laughing).

At Veronica’s behest, the two have a tacit agreement that if either are to end up in any situation with unwanted male attention, they would immediately claim to be in a relationship. Veronica ended up in these situations a lot. 

All in all, Betty adores Veronica and loves the insanity of their booth and the delicious secrets they share.

“My favourite ladies,” Pop Tate says as they slide onto the pleather cushions. 

“Pop, darling!” Veronica coos, dark shades still hiding her bloodshot eyes. 

Pop gives her a grandfatherly look and says slyly, “Big night, Veronica?”

Veronica pouts and nods.

“How about you, Betty?” he asks her kindly.

Betty shakes her head. “Too much to do this weekend, Pop. I couldn’t be out of action for more than a moment, to be honest. I am working two cases, plus I have to help my mom tune her car, and then there’s all that homework for Grundy’s class I need to do.”

“Blow it all off,” Veronica insists in a flat voice. “I do.”

Betty gives her a sardonic look. “When I have billionaire parents, I will, I promise.”

Veronica’s head slips to the table, and she groans, “Will billionaire parents take away this headache?”

“No,” Pop says gently. “But, I can offer you all the coffee you so desire, Veronica.”

“Pop, you’re an angel, I swear.” Veronica tilts her head to look at him and smiles sweetly from her prone position. “Could I please also get some pancakes?”

“Of course,” Pop nods and then looks at Betty with a small smile on his face. 

“I’d love some bacon and eggs with a huge coffee, too, please!” Betty requests.

After they have tucked into their food, Pop comes to check on them.

Veronica pats the seat next to her. “Come on, Pop, this is a ritual.” She lowers her sunglasses to eye him. “I want to hear about all the Riverdale gossip over the last week! The break ups, the make ups, and the scandals!”

Pop chuckles, and Veronica sits up properly in her seat, squaring her shoulders. 

“For you two, anything,” he says with a wink. “Okay, well, Cheryl Blossom was in here with a tall gentlemen for dinner the other night, but she seemed _very_ disinterested in him, whereas he was practically fawning over her. He looked like he came from old money.”

"Old money, you say?" Veronica hums and taps her fingernails on the Formica with an impressed air about her. “I’ve never met this Cheryl character, but I think I already like her.”

Pop smiles. “Oh, you would love Cheryl, she is such an icon. But, Betty knows her better, don’t you?”

Betty shrugs carelessly and sips her scalding coffee with gratitude. “Look, we went to high school together, and she was captain of the cheer squad when I was on it. Sure, she was a bit of a mean girl, but she was nowhere near as bad as Midge and her lot. Cheryl was just - _intense._ I didn’t really hang out with her much to be honest, but that’s largely because her twin, Jason, sucks.”

“With whom did you hang out in high school?” Veronica asks primly, slicing her pancakes with a delicate hand. 

Betty casts back her mind, but now that she considers it, she can recall very few names. “Uh,” she starts, uncomfortable at this revelation. “Well, I used to hang out with Jughead a bit, I guess, when we were both in high school.”

“Mmhmm,” Veronica hums suggestively, and Pop smirks at her. 

Betty rolls her eyes. “Not like that, idiot.”

“Did I say anything?” Veronica asks, looking at her in false affront. She turns to Pop, takes off her sunglasses, and stares at him beseechingly, hand on heart like a politician swearing off adultery for the sixth time. “Did I say anything?”

Pop shakes his head solemnly, and Betty whines, “Pop, you’ve known me my whole life, and you take her side?”

He grins. “She is an incurable gossip, Betty, a woman after my own heart. I can’t break the sacred bonds of friendship borne from dirty little secrets.”

Veronica gives Betty a dark look and jams her glasses back on. “For shame Betty! Keep your judgmental paws off the sacred bonds!”

“I had other friends! I swear! Like Kevin, for instance. Until he moved, that is.” Betty is desperately searching her mind and drawing blanks. “Look, I mostly just kept to myself because I had so much to do for the newspaper and all my cases, okay?”

Pop leans over the table and says with suspicious casualness, “But… _Jughead Jones_ , Betty?”

“It was years ago!” Betty insists, and Veronica pats her hand indulgently. Betty shovels scrambled eggs into her mouth and chews with fury. Veronica seems greatly amused over the rim of her designer shades. 

Pop looks thoughtful for a moment and then says lightly, “Speak of the devil.”

Veronica’s excitement vibrates from her very being as her head whips around to stare at the door. 

“A snake has entered the garden of Eden!” she exclaims in what Betty would describe as a “Southern Baptist Megachurch Preacher” tone and then groans from the loudness of her own voice. 

“Will you shut up?” Betty hisses at her and tries to lean over the table to clap her hand over Veronica’s mouth.

“I’ll leave you both to it,” Pop chuckles and gets up from the booth to go serve the small group of Serpents that have entered. Of the five of them, Betty only recognises Jughead and Sweet Pea.

Veronica, sensing a moment of distraction, cackles, “Will Eve be tempted by the juicy apple?”

Betty half climbs over the table, pushing their breakfast to the side in order to stop Veronica from screaming about Serpents and her “biting apples” ( _whatever the fuck_ analogy that is supposed to be, Betty has no idea), and Veronica takes this as an opportunity to gnaw on her hand. 

“Holy hell, Veronica,” Betty half-laugh, half-snarls at her friend. “Quit it!”

Betty can see that Veronica is crying with laughter at her reaction and can almost hear her condescending voice sassing her: _Stop denying it! It’s so obvious you want to fuck him senseless._

“If I let you go, will you talk about something civilised?” Betty asks her, splayed across the table. Veronica puts on her best doe-eyes and nods convincingly. 

Betty smirks down at her. “You’re just saying that so when I release you, you can be like: “Jughead Jones, Betty wants to b-””

At that moment, Veronica’s gaze slides to the side and her eyes sparkle with mirth. Betty shuts her mouth abruptly before she can finish that sentence (and incriminate herself) and turns her head slightly towards the entrance of the booth. 

Jughead and Sweet Pea stand there looking highly entertained. 

“Jughead Jones, Betty wants to b- what?” Jughead asks her with a lopsided grin. 

Betty’s brain is thankfully faster than the rest of her today. “Blackmail you.”

Jughead seems intrigued by the prospect. “Oh? Sure.”

Veronica makes a whimpering noise under Betty’s hand.

Jughead gestures between them both and raises an eyebrow, wondering, “Did - ah - we walk in on something here?”

“It’s a public diner,” Sweet Pea points out, eyes filled with excitement at the scene before him. Did he think she was going to lean over and hook up with Veronica or something? “We have a right to watch.”

Betty shoots Veronica a warning glare and releases her. 

Veronica hums in response and her eyes are filled with an effervescent mischief that Betty adores despite _Jughead_ bearing witness to this entire embarrassing scene.

Veronica gasps a laugh (presumably at Betty’s mortified expression) and says, “Don’t worry, we do this thing all the time. This is a classic Saturday morning at Pop’s.”

Jughead shakes his head, a boyish smile on his face. Sweet Pea elbows him and inclines his chin towards the door. 

Betty watches as Jughead’s adorable grin morphs into an arrogant smirk. 

His Serpent King smile.

She glares at the exchange, a small coil of anger unfurling inside her. She digs her nails into her palms as Jughead approaches. 

“You haven’t called me, Betty,” he accuses, voice roiling and soft as he places both hands on the table and leans into her personal space. The effect he has on her is undeniable, and the softness in his voice reminds her of those rare moments they spoke at the school paper in high school. 

_Push him, make him yield!_ Her mind yells, and Betty locks down all her muscles to prevent herself from doing precisely that. 

“You were serious?” Betty asks. When she speaks, her voice is regrettably higher than normal. “About wanting me to call you?”

A curious look crosses Jughead’s face. “Do you think I give my number to everyone who walks into my yard?”

Betty raises one finger in a questioning gesture, still perched on the booth like an idiot. “Um… no?”

Jughead flicks a glance towards Sweet Pea and resumes his _frustrating_ cocky smile, arms folded over his chest. “Right answer.” 

Betty immediately scrunches her hands into her dress, so she can’t grab onto his pretty face and make him moan. She wants him to melt for her. She wants to lick the smirk off his smug mouth. 

She gives him an intense grin in response, aware that she’s likely baring her teeth. 

“But, my car is fine,” she snarls. She cuts her palms with her nails, the pain bringing clarity. 

“Not for your car, Betty,” he whispers just for her, as he stares at her with liquid eyes. 

When she says nothing, he leans back and postures, “I think you’ve got that particular beast handled.”

Betty tries to reign in her hormone-addled mind before it does something stupid, such as constructing a naked Jughead Jones who pulls her on top of him and purrs, “Handle this beast”. Regrettably, it does not work.

“I do,” she croons in response because she wants to push him until _he_ snaps. With a sense of great personal victory, Betty watches Jughead’s pupils dilate. 

Betty’s phone rings, abruptly cutting through the sexual tension playing the “kick” ringtone on her Nokia 3310. Nothing quite like polyphonic sounds to ruin an atmosphere. 

Betty pulls out her phone. It’s her mom. 

_Thanks, Alice,_ she thinks snidely.

“Sorry,” she says to Jughead, waving her phone at him like a shield. “Prior engagement.”

Jughead steps back with a sweeping motion of his hand. “All yours.”

“Hi, mom,” she says with a grin at Jughead’s raised-eyebrow expression. 

“Honey!” Alice coos, and immediately Betty can tell by that tone of voice that she wants something. Alice does not do _sweet_. “Where are you? Are you alone right now? I need a favour.”

Betty smiles. “I will be right over. Also, I’m completely alone, you can ask me -- .”

“I need you to buy me some triple sec, honey,” Alice says. “I’m making myself long island iced tea, and I’m low. And butter. And eggs. Also some milk. And toilet paper if you get the chance.”

Betty stifles a laugh at her mother’s request. “Just to be clear, you want your underage daughter to use the fake ID you told her to destroy, even though you called it – and I quote - ‘a work of art’ - to buy you triple sec because you’re too lazy to get it yourself? Can I just revel in this delicious sense of irony for a moment, mother?”

“Well, funny you should mention that to me, darling daughter! I was just thinking that I should go ask that Jones boy to fix up my car for me. You know, the one who runs the radio show you listen to? I wonder what sort of things I will learn?” Nothing grates on Betty more than Alice’s goading tone. She can picture her mother’s accompanying shark-like grin at her words. 

Betty folds quickly, “No, no, don’t be like that! Don’t take your car to the Auto Shop. I promise I’ll fix it for you!”

“That’s my girl,” Alice croons. “Now, go get me that triple sec. Don’t forget the eggs!”

When she hangs up, Jughead teases, “You’re stealing all my customers.”

Betty cocks her eyebrow in challenge. “You can have her as a customer if you want to give me something in return?”

“Can I choose what this _something_ is?” He matches her expression. 

She grins and tosses her ponytail. “Of course not.”

“Pass,” he smirks. 

“Shame,” Betty laments and slides off the booth in an agile movement to press herself up against him. Jughead’s breath hitches, and Betty takes care to _accidentally_ brush her fingers along his lower ribs as she steps to the side. 

She does this so she can breathe in his delicious scent and imagine biting the pulse point at his neck.

“Come on, Veronica, long island iced tea awaits you,” Betty announces, gazing past Jughead. 

He sulks a little as she turns on heel and leaves, linking arms with Veronica on the way out. 

_This is one stand off you won’t win, Serpent King._

~~~

“Honey!” Alice calls from the front porch, leaning over the railing. She is smoking a cigarette, wrapped in her leather jacket. The sounds of Ladytron’s album Light & Magic are pounding through the house. “You brought my favourite of your friends as well as the triple sec? My lucky day! Veronica, how are you?”

“I’m her only friend,” Veronica sasses, perfect eyebrow arched.

“She’s hung-over, mom,” Betty tattles like a small child. Veronica pokes her tongue out in response, ever the adult. 

“Well, good to see someone is using their youth like an actual youth,” Alice notes wryly, and Betty glares at her.

“You’re ex-law enforcement, mom. You should not be encouraging underage drinking,” Betty admonishes primly. 

Alice scoffs, “You want to be treated like an adult and yet have me police your movements? Teenagers are so variable! Just make better decisions.”

Betty’s lip twitches. She watches Alice take a huge drag of her cigarette and let out a billow of smoke through her nose like a dragon. Her mother points her fingers at Betty and says, “For that, my dear, Veronica and I are going to set up lawn chairs to watch you work and not lift a finger.”

“Like always,” Betty ripostes, folding her arms over her chest. 

“Like old times,” Alice says softly, clearly remembering Hal making her a pitcher of Long Island Iced Tea and setting her up on a lawn chair while he and Betty worked on the cars.

Betty tosses her ponytail in false annoyance and then bounds up the stairs to hug her mom. 

“Honey, I love you,” Alice whispers, holding the cigarette far away from her, “You’re all the best parts of Hal and I.”

Alice opens her arms to Veronica, who grins and launches herself into the embrace.

After a few moments Alice sighs and puts out her cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. “Betty, you are fierce and tenacious like me, and funny and thoughtful like your dad.”

Betty always feels choked up when her mother compares her to her dad. To Alice, there was no one who could ever replace Hal, and so to be bestowed with some of his better traits, Betty can’t help but feel honoured and humbled. 

“Lucky you got my blend of aggression and assertiveness, though,” Alice points out with a smirk on her face, opening the door for them both. “Your dad was a passive aggressive little bitch sometimes.”

“Mom!” Betty exclaims, and Alice grins. 

“I always told him that, Betty,” she sings as she enters the house. “It’s important not to put people up on pedestals and to love them for all that they are. Plus, your dad was remarkably easy to love.”

Betty smiles at this, and Alice whips out the ingredients to make her cocktail. “Need a pick me up, Veronica?” Alice asks with a wry smile at the brunette who is rubbing her eyes, causing her once-fresh mascara to panda around her lashes. 

“Mmm, Alice,” Veronica complains as she slumps across the bench in a decidedly “dis-Lodge” fashion, “I think I’m into the tail end of chasing the dragon.”

Alice barks a laugh. “I’ll make a batch, and you can see how you feel when we start soaking up the sun on the lawn.”

She turns to Betty. “So honey, how is college? I won’t shop talk with you while Veronica is drooling on my counter.”

“I’m not drooling!” slurs Veronica, rubbing her cheek against the cold countertop. 

“But, how are other things? Have you started working with Professor Grundy yet?” Alice chirps as she adds the vodka to the jug. 

“Not really,” Betty says. “But, he did invite me to an awards ceremony, so I could meet some people in the criminology field. It’s in a couple of weeks. He thinks it’s a good idea for me to meet the local experts and get my name out.”

Alice pauses for a moment and asks, “An awards ceremony? Oh that’s interesting. Are many other kids from class going?” 

Betty considers the question and responds, “Not sure actually. He says that this sort of thing happens all the time. Plus, he’s convinced that I’m some sort of criminology genius, so who am I to argue?”

Alice smirks. “Yes, of course you’re a genius. Just make sure that this is normal, okay, honey?”

“Fine, mom,” Betty pouts, some of the excitement of the evening eroding. 

Betty raises her eyebrows at the size of the vessel in Alice’s hands. Her mother notices and shrugs. “I got nowhere to be today, Miss Judge-y!”

“Did you say Miss Juggie?” Veronica giggles.

“V! You’re drooling,” Betty snarks back, and Veronica unceremoniously flips her the bird.

Alice smirks. “Nope, definitely not, but I’m curious now. What’s a Juggie?”

Veronica sits upright and brushes the hair from her eyes. It’s as if she has undergone a transformation from _Friday night out and I’ve just had sex in a toilet cubicle_ to _Sunday church sermon and I’m going to charm your pastor father_ , and Betty’s eyes narrow in suspicion. 

“Betty has a crush,” Veronica states, waggling her eyebrows. “Jughead Jones.”

“No I don’t!” denies Betty in a high voice, and Alice looks on in amusement. 

“Jughead Jones, eh?” Alice wonders, acting casual, though she seems to be fighting a smile with every effort. “FP’s son?”

“Yes,” Betty snaps. 

Both Alice and Veronica stare at her with laughing eyes.

Betty rolls her own in response. “I meant, ‘yes, FP’s son’, not ‘yes, I have a crush on him’, you numbskulls.”

“Sure you did, honey.” Alice stirs the jug filled with myriad alcoholic beverages. Betty watches them swirl around the wooden spoon, creating little Eddy currents in the wake of movement. “He leads the Serpents, right?”

Of course Alice knows about all the gang activities. 

“Yep,” Betty says stiffly. “But I don’t like him. He’s got several personalities, and it’s so annoying to me. Who is he really? It’s driving me crazy.”

“What a mystery,” Veronica teases, voice taking on a dreamy quality. “Now, who do I know who loves a mystery?” 

Betty makes a sound of frustration. "I don't like him, okay? I just want him to put me on his radio show for the case I'm working on. He keeps pretending he doesn't have a radio show."

“Probably to ensnare your mind,” whispers Veronica in her deep Phantom of The Opera tone. Betty glares at her smirking face. 

"You know it could be just because you're accosting him at his place of work," Alice points out, actively avoiding Veronica's eyes so that she doesn't laugh aloud. "Doesn't he go to college with you? Can't you ask him between classes?"

Betty waves her hand dismissively. "Of course I can. I just -."

"Wanted to show off your car knowledge?" her mother finishes with a shit-eating grin. Betty snarls at Alice's incorrect hypotheses. "And now you've seen him act bizarrely and you want to keep picking at the knot until it comes loose?"

Betty bares her teeth at her mother. 

Alice's lips twist playfully. "Honey, you _do_ like him."

"I do not!" exclaims Betty, slamming her hands on the table for impact.

“What is this?” Alice taunts her, “So, he’s not good enough for my Northside daughter?”

“No! What?” Betty screeches, horrified at the idea of being tarnished with the same brush as the wealthy, pejorative Northsiders. “He’s definitely -- .”

Then, she realises Alice’s perfect little trap that she’s just sprung in an effort to defend her fucking preferences and political standing.

Her mother is laughing at her, and Veronica's expression is very _cat got the cream_.

Betty heaves a sigh and relents because she can't lie to her mother, “So you wouldn’t be mad if I thought he were cute? A Serpent?”

Alice makes a dismissive noise and waves the bottle of gin around. “The Serpents have never caused any real trouble. Sure, there are some bad eggs amongst them, but there are always some weird relatives in any family, so it’s just a numbers game at that point. We got way more trouble from the Greendale Ghoulies to be fair.”

“Oh,” Betty says surprised. “I thought you would try and warn me off it.”

Alice laughs with delight. “Yeah, sure! Like that wouldn’t send you straight into his arms and cursing me for being a shitty parent? Come off it, girl, I’m way too smart for that nonsense. Just make sure you use protection and all that. Get tested.”

Betty hears herself growl and gets a horrible flush.

“And then.” Pointing the neck of the bottle in Betty’s direction, Alice whispers dramatically, “Get some.”

Veronica crows with agreement as Alice smirks and puts away the bottle. 

~~~

On Sunday, Betty just happens to “chance upon” Val on the hiking trails through Fox Forest. When she spies her friend, they duck into a covered grove of trees. Betty unrolls a picnic run and pulls out a flask.

“Coffee and brandy,” she says, passing it to Val. “Helps me brood.”

Val laughs and takes a sip of the hot liquid. “You’re such a card, Betty.”

She takes out a stack of coloured manila folders and hands them across. “These didn’t come from me.”

Betty nods insistently. “Of course, Val,” she says, throat tight with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

Val smiles fiercely. “Let me talk you through what we’ve got here, okay?”

She sorts through the coloured folders and points to a red one. “Donor lists for Riverdale College. I’ve marked the ones that used to be in the Greek System.”

Betty flips through the pages and sighs. “Oh my god, Val, this is months of work here!”

Val jabs her lightly with her fingertip. “Yeah I know. So make sure you put it to good use, alright?”

Betty nods. “There are thousands of names here, Val.”

“You have a lot of work to do, Betty,” Val says solemnly. She points to the next folder. “This one is everything I have written on the website. There is not much, but I thought it would be useful for you regardless.”

Betty opens the folder and whistles. “Your carbon copies? Are you sure the Blue & Gold won’t notice these missing?”

Val rolls her eyes and admits, “You’re the only one on the staff who cares about proper filing, Betty.”

Or, rather, she used to be.

Val seems to be thinking along the same lines. “Did Professor Grundy talk to you about quitting the paper?”

“You mean being forced out?” Betty jokes and then smirks at Val’s expression. “Yeah, he did, actually. He offered me a job as his RA.”

Val looks impressed. “That’s ace, Betty! I’m so happy for you. Are you going to do it?”

Betty nods. “I was actually thinking of working on this website investigation with him. Not sure if it’s really criminal enough for him, but the way I see it, cybercrime is only going to get worse, right? It could make an interesting profiling study for him?”

Val hums thoughtfully. “You definitely have to pitch it like that to him. I mean, he speaks pretty highly of you, so I think he would just let you research whatever you wanted, but to make it official, take him a research proposal and get his approval.”

“Good idea, Val,” Betty says, mind already assembling a crisp literature review for the piece. 

Betty opens up Val’s website notes folder and skims through her cursive script. “Oh,” she breathes, “You think it has to be a student? That still supports my frat house theory.”

Val looks to where she is pointing on the page and nods, taking another swig of the brandy/coffee combination. “Yes, I do. You must have a Riverdale College student ID to sign up. And you have to be male. Faculty have different ID types. Theirs start with ‘FAC’ whereas ours are eight random alphanumeric strings.”

Betty bites her lip, thinking, and Val adds, “Plus, I got my boyfriend to test by trying to sign up to the site, and it wouldn’t let him.”

“So, faculty can’t access the site at all?” Betty asks. 

“I assume so, but tech is not my area of expertise,” Val informs her with a heavy sigh. “Don’t you have your secret tech friend, though?”

“Kevin?” Betty offers, “Yes, but this is not really his wheelhouse to be honest. I will ask him anyway.” 

“I would,” Val agrees. “You’re kind of on your own here, Betty, and the more help you have, the better for you.”

“Preach,” Betty says, taking the flask from Val for a sip. 

~~~

 **MClayton777:** Dear Betty, I really like you, but I honestly don’t think Munroe would have anything to do with that creepy stalker video. We are really good friends still despite him not handling my job very well. Okay? I swear it won’t be him. Hugs, Monica.

 **Better.than.Drew:** Hi Monica, I’m going to check anyway because I need to rule him out properly. Sorry if that upsets you, but I think it’s important we know if jilted lovers are creating these videos or if it is something more sinister. Many thanks, Betty.

 **MClayton777:** Dear Betty, I am laughing over your phrase “jilted lovers”. I assure you that Munroe does not think of himself as that. But, of course, you must do your job and you’re right, at this point I would prefer for it to be him than someone much creepier. Wishing you all the luck! Love, Monica.

 **Better.than.Drew:** Thanks Monica, I promise I will be gentle with him. Betty.

 **MClayton777:** Dear Betty, I imagine him to be quaking in his boots right now. Play nice, he is one of the good ones, I swear! Love, Monica.

~~~

 **Ethelhead:** So I’ve been thinking… The only person that I told about my _proclivities_ was my ex-boyfriend, Dilton. It’s probably a good idea if you look into him. Any luck on the video de-composition?

 **Better.than.Drew:** Not much, I’m afraid. All the equipment seems to have been stolen from the AV club, but there is nothing remarkable about it. Despite being the AV club they definitely didn’t have cameras watching their cameras. 

**Ethelhead:** Frustrating. Well, try Dilton, just don’t let him know I sent you, okay? If it is him, then the last thing I need is more of my… preferences made into home movies. Anyway, what’s your plan for getting the word out? I haven’t seen or heard anything and I’m worried. 

**Better.than.Drew:** I promise I am working on it. I’ve got something on the go. 

Betty rubs her hands together and thinks, _Bribery time._


	4. cinnamon lips and candy kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty commences her three-pronged approach: bribery, flirtation and blackmail. 
> 
> **Chapter title song:** OK Go - C-C-C-Cinnamon Lips (2002)  
>  **Date:** Monday, 1st May 2006

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love and encouragement on this! I really appreciate it <3
> 
> All the thanks to [redcirce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcirce) and [meditationonbaaal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationonbaaal).
> 
> As usual, the link to the [Viper Radio Playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4pw4LfrUm0cQ5DRkgvfdmE?si=DybxwnTpRke8whyyy8EOGw) \- thanks to everyone for the feedback on this! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

“Hi, Pop, how are you?” Betty asks, smiling at him from across the counter on Monday morning. 

“Betty, darling, I am doing wonderfully. How was the rest of your weekend?” he asks her with a warm smile on his face. 

Betty grins. “Aw, it was lovely. I went to fix mom’s car, went for a bit of a hike, and did some work. Mom says hi by the way!”

“Thanks, Betty, your mother was always one of the good ones,” Pop tells her gently. 

“How was your weekend?” she asks.

“Mostly just work, to be honest,” he muses. “Though I did get in a spot of fishing with Fred Andrews on Sunday, which was relaxing.”

“That sounds so good!” Betty cries, delighting at the idea of Pop and Fred Andrews bonding. “How is he?”

“Very well, Betty,” Pop informs her. “Now, I know that you’re a busy young lady, so you can’t be hanging around entertaining an old man all day, so what can I get you?”

“Two jelly-filled doughnuts and two black coffees, please!” Betty requests.

Pop raises both eyebrows and says with a smile, “Going to catch Veronica for breakfast?”

Betty shakes her head and leans over the counter to whisper conspiratorially to him, “No, I’m bribing Jughead Jones.”

Pop’s eyes sparkle in amusement as he responds, “Oh, well, in that case, may I suggest a cinnamon roll? He’s amenable to those.”

“Pop, you are the best! Thank you,” Betty gushes as he hands her the rolls and coffee. 

She walks to her car with haste, a weird anxious excitement filling her as she gets in the Viper and turns on the engine. 

Humming to the Wheatus song on the radio as the car growls into life, Betty makes her way over to Southside Auto, feeling like the whole world is alight with beauty. 

Despite feeling a little underdressed last Thursday, she decides that summer dresses and denim jackets will become standard fare. And, if she is to be completely honest with herself, she wants to show off her legs as much as possible. 

This is part of a three-pronged approach: flirtation (legs and inescapable sass), bribery (cinnamon rolls) and blackmail (pure, good old-fashioned fun for ladies of all persuasions).

Betty pulls up outside the Auto shop and steps out of the car, food-based offering in hand. 

She waves to the guys she saw the other day, calling out, “Hi, Sweet Pea!” as she passes, looking for Jughead. 

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to go far, as he is mulling about in his office.

“Morning!” Betty says cheerfully, poking her head through the door. 

Jughead starts at the table and looks up from his paperwork. His eyes widen in surprise, and his mouth forms an _o_ of confusion. She shuts the door firmly behind him, sealing them from the rest of the world. 

“Betty?” he says, brow furrowing. He licks his lips. “I thought - ah - you were going to text me?”

Betty holds up the bag and coffee, tilting her head to the side to demonstrate her _cute_ expression. “I can’t text you coffee and cinnamon rolls.”

His eyes widen and he forcibly swallows. “Jesus, you really know how to kick a person in the guts.”

She crooks an eyebrow. “So that’s a no to the treats?”

“You’re not fooling me with your _treats_. I can see all those strings attached,” Jughead murmurs, eyes resolutely on her face. “I told you that I’m not who you think I am.”

Betty sighs inwardly. She walks around to his side of the desk, watching Jughead take a long sip of air and hold it as she settles on his desk, her body alarmingly close to his. She crosses her long, bare legs out in front of her. A muscle in Jughead’s jaw ticks.

She smirks and opens the package, letting the warm buttery and cinnamon aroma waft in his direction. Jughead’s gaze flicks down to her fingers to track their movements. Betty takes out a roll and places it on a serviette in front of him. 

“Oh well,” she says, pitching her voice low and soft. “More for me.”

Jughead raises an eyebrow and leans back nonchalantly in his chair, moving out of her immediate reach. He gestures to her with a sweep of his hand. “Well this is just cruel.”

Betty’s lips twitch as she fights a grin. “Good. I mean, you know how to _get some_.”

Jughead sits up abruptly to snatch the coffee from the desk as if desperately seeking fortification. He takes a sip and licks his lips again. He seems nervous and a little confused. “I - um - think you should let me pay you back in kind for this little breakfast date, though.”

Betty feels a warm glow suffuse her as she stares into his eyes and imagines him licking cinnamon-flavoured sugar off her inner thighs. Maybe he would trace the word _payback_ on her skin with his tongue. Things to mull over. 

“What do you have in mind?” she murmurs, her voice low and husky. His eyes widen, gaze caught on her mouth. He swallows visibly.

She imagines that he’s thinking about it too. Licking her. Kissing her. The roiling feeling heats in her lower belly, and she has to reign herself in before she clutches at him and takes his mouth. 

“Well, I -.” He makes a weird noise in the back of his throat and then whispers, “I’ve been told that I am really good at pancakes.” 

She blinks in confusion.

“By my sister,” he adds hastily, eyes darting over her face. His words spill out in a rush, “I make them for my sister all the time.”

“Oh,” she squeaks, breathless for some reason, “That’s not necessary.”

Jughead sighs and shakes his head. She watches him slam his eyes closed and grit his teeth. 

“What if I want to, though?” His words sound forced, as if they have been pushed past serrated edges. His eyes remain clenched shut.

“Um,” Betty starts, unsure how to answer that. Does he mean that he wants her to come over the night before and then make pancakes in the morning? Or just show up at the breakfast table with a jaunty grin plastered on her face demanding he bring the goods? 

She opens her mouth to reply when Jughead interjects, not looking at her, “Forget I said anything.”

“Okay,” she allows, throat tight, “If that’s what you want.”

His jaw flexes. He is staring at a spot on the desk as if trying to burn a hole in it. “So why are you here, Betty?”

“I want you to put me on your radio show,” she says before she starts over-analysing the tones of resignation she detected in his question. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he informs her with an intense look. 

“I’ll change your mind,” she promises.

Jughead rolls his eyes and plucks the cinnamon bun from her fingers, ignoring the one on the table. He take a bite with relish. “I’m certain you will try.”

~~~

Betty catches Monica’s ex-boyfriend at the football field after practice. She’s seen pictures of the tall, handsome quarterback but never met him in real life. He watches her with an amused expression as she approaches. 

“Hi, I’m Betty,” she announces brightly and decides to go for the flirtatious route (all footballers love to be loved, right?), “I was just watching your practise before and I - .”

Munroe lowers his voice and says, with a kind expression on his face, “Look, sweetheart, you are really gorgeous and I am very flattered, but my relationship status is complicated at the moment, so I am not really in the mood to engage, okay?”

Betty feels her heart clench in happiness, pleased that Monica could be right about Munroe. 

She sighs and says, waving her hands emphatically, “Ahh, sorry about that. I actually wanted to talk to you about Monica.”

Munroe seems much more interested in her now. Betty almost wishes she could play matchmaker between the two of them, because Munroe is evidently head over heels for Monica despite their “complicated status”.

“Sure,” Munroe says earnestly. “Is she okay?” Then, he shakes himself and mutters, “Why didn’t she tell me if something was wrong? I spoke to her yesterday.”

Betty decides to go with the truth. “I’m working for her in trying to investigate this weird video she received.”

Munroe hisses angrily, fists clenched, “I told her to go to the sheriff about this, and she chooses a two-bit Nancy Drew wannabe to help her?”

Betty can’t help but laugh at that. “Munroe, let me level with you here and say with great emphasis and the highest amount of disrespect: Sheriff Minetta is a sick cosmic joke bestowed upon Riverdale by the cruel hand of fate.”

Munroe’s scowling face turns to her and he snorts. “Oh, and you think that you’re better?”

“Unequivocally,” Betty states, folding her arms and tossing her ponytail in a way that Cheryl would have approved. “For one, I am actually looking into this case.”

“The Sheriff -,” Munroe spits.

“Wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about Monica’s stalker,” Betty snarls. “Trust me, that guy is too busy trying to subjugate the Southside and turn petty crime into felonies for minorities. I can assure you that he will not give a shit about Monica’s problem. Plus, she’s a woman.”

“And black,” Munroe adds, looking like someone has slapped him across the face. He cards his hands through his hair and Betty can see the whites of his eyes showing in stress. “Fuck, okay, point well made. How can I help?”

Betty takes a deep breath and asks, “Do you know who else knew about her job?”

Munroe laughs, but it’s a false and high sound that grates on Betty’s nerves. 

“I know you broke up over it,” Betty pushes him, eyes searching his face for clues. “Are you that mad at her that you would - .”

“No!” Munroe interjects with a horrified expression on his face. “I would _never_ do that to Monica. I love her, I really do. I just - can’t stand how jealous I am of her line of work.”

He slumps forward and hangs his head in his hands. When he speaks next, his voice is piteous. “I am really trying, and she’s being incredibly patient with me, but it’s hard. You know?”

Betty’s heart goes out to him. “I can’t even begin to imagine,” she admits softly. 

Munroe looks up at her, eyes tortured. “I swear I am trying.”

“Okay,” Betty breathes. “Do you know anyone who could hold a grudge against Monica?”

Munroe snorts. “Fuck no! Monica is amazing and everyone loves her. I am just worried that she’s being targeted by someone on the site.”

Betty reassures him, “It’s unlikely. A few other girls have received tapes, and none of them work as cam girls.”

Munroe nods thoughtfully. “Okay, well that’s something at least. Small miracles.”

“So, who else knows other than you? About Monica’s job?”

Munroe shrugs and says, “I dunno, just her cousin, Chuck, I think.”

Betty feels a chill go through her of the memory of her last real encounter with Chuck and Ethel’s hot tub. Plus that black wig. 

_Yikes, what a time._

“Oh,” Betty starts and Munroe looks past her and inclines his head. 

“HEY, CHUCK!” Munroe yells, “Come over here for a sec!”

Betty’s spine stiffens as she turns to see Chuck sauntering towards her with a dark expression on his face. She forces herself to breathe easy, clenching her fists in preparation for the inevitable altercation.

“Hot tub hellion,” he acknowledges with a bite in his tone. 

“Sleazy, womanizing, play-book writing jerk,” Betty responds with tartness. “Surprised they even let you come to this College after your track record.”

Munroe looks between the two of them with a bemused expression.

“Fucking hell, Cooper,” Chuck snorts in shocked amusement. “I was a virginal sixteen year old boy with too much arrogance and attitude! I’ve grown up since then and that little lesson you decided to teach me.”

“Oh,” Betty trails off, unsure.

Chuck laughs at her expression. “First time I’ve seen your smart mouth rendered speechless, Cooper. It’s a sight to behold.”

She grins despite herself, warming up to this older, less antagonistic version of Chuck. 

Munroe sighs and shakes his head, interjecting with, “Betty is helping Monica with that video she received.”

Chuck, to his credit, actually looks relieved. “Thank god. I am so worried about her, and I’m glad she came to you instead of going to that shitty racist Sheriff.”

Betty is mollified by his gratitude. “Really?”

Chuck smirks at her and folds his arms over his chest. “Yeah, you pestilent blonde, now you can turn that tenaciously annoying attitude and hound people that rightfully deserve it.”

Betty barks a laugh and points out, “You did deserve it, Chuck.”

Chuck tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Probably,” he muses. “Likely. But I’ve changed a lot. Maybe it was the best thing that happened, because I feel like I’m much less angry and defensive now.”

“What, despite those death threats you sent me?” Betty quips sardonically.

“It was all part of the grieving process, Betty,” Chuck breezes. “Plus, you did get me kicked off the team in high school.”

“I’m glad to see it didn’t ruin everything for you, though,” she says truthfully, and Chuck smiles. 

“I think you made it better, so thanks, I guess?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Anyway, happy to help with whatever you need.”

“Are you helping Betty lose her virginity?” A perpetually unwelcomed and snide voice insinuates itself into their conversation. 

Jason fucking Blossom: Betty’s least favourite person in existence. 

Chuck rolls his eyes. “Jase, honestly, you’re like a rabid dog with Betty. Can you just give her a rest?”

Jason makes a weird noise and Chuck shrugs. “She has said no dude, like, for _years_. I think you’ve moved well into creepy territory now if you weren’t already there.”

Jason slinks off, admonished. Munroe looks perplexed by the whole situation, not having attended Riverdale High. 

“Thanks, Chuck,” she says with hesitation, and then adds, “I never thought I’d thank you for getting a guy off my back. Especially one of your home boys.”

“I said it was a period of personal growth, Betty,” Chuck says airily and then snorts, “I doubt it will work for long. Jason has always been a bit insane where you’re concerned.”

Betty flexes her biceps and postures, “I can take him.”

Chuck grins and shakes his head. “I have no doubt, Cooper.”

“Anyway,” she smiles warmly at the guys. “Thank you both. I’ll be in touch.”

~~~

Betty skitters into the AV club late in the afternoon on Monday, yawning into her second coffee for the day. She has a mocha frappuccino topped with a generous swirl of whipped cream for Kevin as an offering. 

Kevin, as usual, is alone in the AV club room. Most of them don’t appear from their dorms until at least six in the evening (Kevin calls them “tech vampires”), so between drama and theatre, Kevin hangs out in the lounge to do homework and help her. 

“Kev!” Betty calls as she barges into the room without ceremony. 

Kevin is sitting, cross-legged on a desk chair with his back to the door and seems to be meditating to whatever is playing on his Walkman. 

Betty smiles with fondness. She and Kevin have always been pretty good friends, save from when he moved to Greendale during spring break of sophomore year because his dad relocated to their Sheriff’s department. 

Betty waves the milky, cream-covered drink tantalisingly in front of his face. Kevin takes it with a grin and turns to face her, pulling his headphones off. 

“She comes with treats this time!” he crows with delight, sipping from the violent purple straw. “My favourite! You really do know how to bribe a gentleman!”

“I am exceptional at the dark arts,” Betty concedes with a giggle and pulls up a roller chair next to his. “How are you, Kev?”

“Dying, Betty,” Kevin whispers dramatically around the straw. “Dying.”

Betty raises both her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Riverdale has run dry of cute gay boys,” Kevin wails. “I thought it would take me a bit longer to work my way through the hotties in college, but no! Not at all. I fear that I am the last handsome gay man left in Riverdale. And I’ve done me so many times.”

Betty scoffs, “Theatrics aside…”

“How dare you!” Kevin snaps. “The theatrical arts is my primary mode of expression! You, of all people, Betty, should know this about me.”

She laughs and tilts her head. “You’re so right. I forget myself here, Kevin.”

He gives her a look that can be interpreted as: _Back in your box, fruit fly._

She rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her coffee. “So, how can I help? Want me to wrangle up some hot guys for you?”

Kevin snorts and claps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from spraying coffee mist all over her. Once he has painfully swallowed, he gasps through hacking coughs, “You? Oh my god, Betty, are you serious?”

She is mildly offended by his reaction. “What’s wrong with me?”

“You barely notice that people exist unless they’re for a story or a case! How are you supposed to notice a hot gay guy? And I don’t want to sleep with a criminal!” Kevin points out through peals of laughter. 

Betty folds her arms across her chest and makes an annoyed noise in the back of her throat. “I notice… people.”

Then, she really thinks about it.

_This is why I can count the number of friends I have on one hand and have room to spare! Even if I include my mother!_

“Okay, fine,” Betty concedes with a curl of her lip. “You’re right.”

Kevin pats her knee in a tender gesture. “I mean, we both know that you’re here for the videos, and this is not a pure social call.”

Betty feels bad for being a shitty friend with a one-track mind. “Kev,” she starts, gesturing helplessly. “You know that you’re one of my best friends, right?”

Kevin gives her a radiant smile. “Doll, I know. You’re one of mine, too. And isn’t it sad that we still barely manage to catch up?”

“I will make more of an effort,” Betty promises, but Kevin shakes his head.

“You know what, Betty? I love you as you are. Don’t feel like you need to change for me, okay?” he says softly. “I know Veronica is dragging you around enough as is. Plus, I am flat out trying to pull together this production of _Chicago_ and help my dad with his Sheriff election campaign.”

“Oh yeah!” Betty says excitedly. “How is it going?”

Kevin makes a face. “I made him some good placards with some bitchin’ graphics, but Minetta just fights dirty, you know? We need more support from the less elitist class because they will always choose Minetta to reinforce that sweet status quo of rich Riverdale. Midge, Moose, Reggie, and Cheryl and Jason’s parents are the primary force behind Minetta’s ridiculous campaign funds.”

Kevin has a point. The abject disparity in the Northside is cultivated and maintained by four main multi-millionaire households that use their insurmountable wealth to bully those less fortunate. Reggie’s parents are property developers. Midge’s dad is a hedge fund manager, and her mother is an M&A lawyer. Moose’s parents are movie producers, and the Blossoms have a monopoly (read: stranglehold) on the American maple production. 

Betty nods in agreement. “Absolutely they will. We probably need a good way to rustle up support from the Southside. I’ll see what I can do.”

Kevin gives her an arched look. “Oh yes, you and your weird pixie magic.”

Betty grins, and then sighs sadly. “Kev, you idiot, just let me know when you want to hang out, okay?”

Kevin rolls his eyes. “Fine, because you will forget to eat if you’re working a case. We all know how single-minded and relentless you are.”

Betty eyes him from over the lid of her coffee cup. “Speaking of single minded, can we - .”

“Talk about your obsession?” Kevin interrupts her with a prim look. “Can I enable your creepy little fetishes? Yes, my dear, I can.”

Betty sighs happily. “Oh, thank god, I’ve - .”

Kevin cuts her off with a slicing motion. “Sorry, doll, no, I didn’t mean that I’ve got anything of use. Nothing beyond the equipment being stolen from the club, but you already knew that. Sorry to get your hopes up. I just meant that I could talk about the case”

He bites his lip, looking chagrined. “Sorry.”

Betty feels the familiar sense of disappointment flood her. “Damn it,” she hisses, shutting her eyes. “I just feel like I have so many clues, but I have no idea what to make of them.”

“Do you want to watch the videos together and pretend that we are at the movies pulling apart storylines?” Kevin suggests. “We have a microwave in here, so I can rustle up some popcorn for the occasion?”

Betty nods grimly and pulls out her black notebook. “Let's do it.”

Fifteen minutes and three disturbing stalker films later, Betty and Kevin are sitting next to each other on the couch and munching popcorn like it’s going out of fashion. 

“These films are so much more fucked than I remember,” Betty says around a giant mouthful of popcorn. 

Kevin snorts, spraying flecks everywhere. “I know! I watched them several times since you gave them to me last night.”

Betty smirks and shakes her head. “You’re getting paid, so stop complaining.”

“I am so glad I’m not a woman if this is the kind of shit you ladies have to put up with.” Kevin shudders and says, “I’ll take being ridiculed for being gay any day of the week versus fearing for my life.”

“You have shit to deal with, too,” Betty reminds him. Riverdale is not exactly the most accepting place. 

“You’re so right Betty!” Kevin jokes, “The hot man drought, I had almost forgotten my most lamentable tragedy! Practically Shakespearian in its drama.”

She slaps him lightly across the chest before giggling. 

“Okay, so nothing new really? Just the cameraperson following these girls around campus and doing random life things – probably so that they know he can get to them – and then the sex scene, usually on a desk next to a stack of records without names.”

Kevin nods. “Yeah, sex scene in which the participants wear kabuki theatre masks, which are the same ones found in the theatre department, I checked. Don’t even ask me about DNA evidence because those masks smelt surgically clean when I checked last Friday.”

Betty hums. “I should set up a camera in the theatre department then. What about the wigs?” 

Kevin purses his lips. “Not ours. Those wigs are shocking in quality. Look at the way the light glints off that plastic trash! I’ll bet that these were bought from a dollar store or something like that.” 

“Dammit,” Betty snarls. “That’s too hard to track. But I’ll put it on my list of things to do.”

Thinking for a moment, Betty snaps her fingers together.

“Then, we’ve got the approximate sizes of the actors,” Betty summarises. “The male actor is probably about your height and the woman about my height. Both are white, and despite one of them playing Monica, they didn’t get a person of colour. Which tells us that they are alone. There are three people at most working in the film itself.”

“That we know of,” Kevin reminds her darkly. “Main girl, random other girl and the tallish guy.”

Betty sighs and then grins at him. “We need better code names for them I think.”

“Bitch tits, Hussy, and Dorkus?” Kevin suggests with an angelic smile. 

“You have a way with words,” Betty says. “Plus, we have no idea where their ideas are coming from because none of their ex boyfriends seem guilty. Ahh, this case is pissing me off.” 

Kevin shoots her some side-eye. “Yeah, but you live for this shit, Nancy.” He snorts and then says, “Sorry, you’re Better than Nancy, now?”

She rolls her eyes and explains, “She did succumb to the patriarchy in the later years, and Alice would disown me if I ever considered it. But you’re right, I do love it. I’m never bored with a mystery.”

~~~

**Viper Radio, 8-9pm**

“And that was Pepper by the Butthole Surfers, from their album Electriclarryland,” Toni informs them. “Good song choice, King.”

“Thanks Poison, I was particularly struck by the lyrics. Anyway, I want to talk about something that has been cropping up for me a bit lately: people from my past,” Jughead says.

Toni purrs in curiosity, “Alright, King, I’ll bite, anyone in particular?”

Jughead makes an awkward noise. “Nah, no one specific, but I am just thinking about school, you know?”

Toni scoffs, “I do not know. I make it a point of forgetting about school whenever I can. It wasn’t exactly pleasant being both out and a person of colour in high school.” She makes a loud shivering noise. “I could do without reliving that.”

Jughead hedges, “You were – and are – super fierce, though.”

“Yeah, but things still bother me, Python,” Toni says softly. “Not as much now, though. I’ve got you and our friends and that makes me really happy. It’s also more than fine to be a lesbian in college or – get this - _experimenting_. Like you haven’t heard a more derogatory phrase for someone of my sexual persuasion. As if I’m fucking dabbling in the world of women just so that when one delicious looking dick - .”

She plays the first verse from Bikini Kill’s song Sugar.

“Ugh!” Jughead interjects with a laugh as she turns down the music so they can continue the conversation. “Please, for the love of my sanity, don’t you ever say that again! I’ll think you’ve been Twilight Zoned or some shit.”

Toni chuckles. “I don’t plan to. It was for maximum artistic effect. But I am way happier, way more confident and much more relaxed than I used to be.”

“I’m so glad,” Jughead murmurs. “You’re definitely my best friend, you know?”

“Aww, don’t get sappy on me now, King,” Toni jokes, and then says more seriously, “You know you’re my favourite, too.”

There’s a moment of silence before Toni blurts, “Fuck, man, we need girlfriends.”

Jughead chuckles with laughter in obvious agreement. 

“So.” Toni starts, “You wanted to talk about the past? Any story you want to share?”

Jughead clears his throat. “Well, I was just thinking about this one guy in high school. He often comes to mind on bad days.”

“The bully guy you’ve spoken to me about?” she whispers, voice laced with threat. 

“Yep,” he acknowledges. “I’ve never spoken about him on air before, but this was a pretty big part of my school life. So, this guy, let’s call him -.”

“Dick,” Toni deadpans. 

“Perfect, Poison. I love it,” Jughead declares with enthusiasm. “So, Dick made it a habit to make my life hell. I was a bit of a loner, and I’ve mentioned that I had social anxiety, which is why I started this show, but this guy just smelt blood and went for it. With him, nothing was off limits. He would try to rile me up about my fucked-up family life, my choice of books, my clothing, blah blah blah, the list goes on.”

“Was it ever physical?” she asks with a dangerous tone. “I mean, I’ll fucking cut him regardless.”

Jughead laughs, “Oh, I know, Poison. You will always have my back.”

“No matter what,” she agrees vehemently. 

“Yes, occasionally it was physical, but at that point I kind of had nothing to lose, so I think he sensed my manic energy and kept to pure psychological torture.”

“Do you want to talk about the reason?” Toni asks curiously. “Or was he just a dick as per his moniker?”

He sighs. “I hypothesise that it was because he really liked this girl – like he was obsessed with her – but she really paid no attention to him at all. When I say that she paid no attention to him, I am not kidding. He could have fucking set himself on fire in front of her, and she would have just put on sunglasses or something thinking it was a particularly bright day.”

Toni laughs. “And what, she spoke to you?”

“Of sorts, I guess?” Jughead supplies with a bitter laugh, “I don’t think she registered my existence other than the few times she was forced to speak to me out of habit. But that was enough for him to create a hostile rivalry within his mind and torment me for it.”

“Lucky you,” Toni says darkly. 

“I think she smiled at me once when he was around and that signed my death warrant.” He laughs, but the sound is more of a snarl. “I don’t even know if she was actually smiling at me, anyway.”

“So, what, like, he never spoke to her?” Toni asks, sounding indignant. “And just took his obsession with this girl out on you?”

“Pretty much,” Jughead allows. “I think he did speak to her, but I was never close enough to hear what he said at the time. It seemed to me like she either ignored him or said something to him that didn’t suit his particular view of the world, so he just freaked. Those were always the worst times.”

“He sounds obsessed,” Toni puts, her anger audible. “Was she okay? Did he ever hurt her?”

“No, not that I’m aware of,” he responds gruffly. “I went out of my way to make sure that she got out of the school grounds without him being around, for as long as I was able I guess.”

Toni snorts inelegantly. “So you stalked her from afar?”

“Hey!” Jughead exclaims. “I prefer to think of it as _protected_ her. But that was only for as long as I was around.”

“Did she have any idea of this grand and noble gesture of yours?” Toni’s voice is dry and somewhat sardonic.

“Hell no.” Jughead chuckles. “As if I would have wanted more reasons to be tormented or more situations in which to screw up conversation with her. She was so perfect. I just - .” He sighs heavily.

Toni hums. “I am so glad school is over, eh?”

“Indeed.” Jughead acknowledges. “Me too.”

“If you saw this guy again in real life, now that you’re no longer at school, what would you do?” Toni asks curiously. 

Jughead makes a thoughtful sound. “Not much to be honest. You know what my life is like these days, so I don’t think I would let him faze me now. I know my worth, I know who I am, despite _false pretences_. I don’t need his petty little problems to cause me to have a bad time.”

“What if he is with the girl now?” Toni inquires.

Jughead laughs. “Doubtful, Pretty. She was always too smart for his bullshit, and I’d like to think she has gotten smarter and therefore way too smart for him.”

“Do you want to talk more about her on air?” Toni asks gently. “Or do you want us to move to a song?”

“Let’s cut to a song for the moment and come back?” Jughead says, some tightness in his voice. “I want Pardon Me by Incubus.”

“Good choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: "weird pixie magic" is a direct lift from V Mars - I think it works for Betty :)


	5. so, come with me tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bribery failing, Betty attempts to collect blackmail material. 
> 
> **Chapter title song:** The Veronicas – 4ever (2005)  
>  **Date:** Tuesday, 2nd May 2006 – Wednesday, 3rd May 2006

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to [redcirce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcirce) and [meditationonbaaal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationonbaaal).
> 
> [Viper Radio Playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4pw4LfrUm0cQ5DRkgvfdmE?si=DybxwnTpRke8whyyy8EOGw).

The following morning, Betty launches herself around a pillar at exactly the right moment to careen into a scurrying Dilton Doiley, who is clearly on his way to the library. 

After deliberately knocking his books and sending them flying, Betty gasps in false shock. “Oh, I am so sorry!” 

Dilton’s face displays his stress as he crouches to pick them up, and Betty feels slightly bad, so she stoops to help him. As she hands him a book she says, “Um, it’s Dilton, right?”

He starts and looks at her in disbelief. His gaze flicks over her face and he shakes himself as if trying to remember who she is. 

_Damn, I didn’t have friends in school, did I?_

“I’m Betty,” she reminds him and realisation dawns slowly across his features. 

He pushes his glasses up to his face with his fingertips in a classic manga-comic move. “Huh. Yes…”

“Sorry for running into you,” she simpers, putting on her best sweet-girl act. 

“The looks of an angel, but the attitude of a demon” was the manner in which one of her high school teachers described her after she broke into his car and released the handbrake - causing his car to roll into a tree - in response to him being a sexist jerk. Alice politely asked her to leave the office at the time of her parent-principal conference (Betty was banished to the hallway) so she could speak to the principal alone, and bought her a huge ice cream on the way home to celebrate her _coming into womanhood_. 

“N-no problem,” Dilton stammers as Betty gives him her most luminous smile. 

“Hey,” she says, tossing her ponytail and tilting her head to one side as if remembering something, “Aren’t you together with Ethel? How is she doing?”

Dilton visibly swallows. “Ah no. Ethel and I broke up. I wasn’t what she was after apparently.”

“Oh?” Betty croons, leaning in, “What was she looking for?”

Dilton pushes his glasses up his nose, sweating profusely under her liquid gaze and gulps, “Ah, well, someone tattooed and leather-covered I guess?”

_Damn straight, Ethel my girl._

“That’s a shame,” Betty breathes. “I always thought you two were really good together.”

Dilton gives a small nod and then says, “Yeah, we were in high-school, but this is college. Plus, she wasn’t really what I was looking for either.”

“Really?” Betty murmurs, trying to make her eyes smoulder. “What were you looking for?”

“Me,” says a sharp voice to her left. 

Betty turns to see a petite brunette glaring at her. 

_Nice one, Dilton! This one has teeth!_

Dilton panics and turns to her. “Amy, I’m so sorry I’m late, I just - Betty caught me by surprise!”

“I’m a friend from school,” Betty says hastily, not wanting to ruin their cute little nerd relationship. “I was just asking him about his library selection.”

Dilton looks at Amy with wide-eyes and gives a frantic nod. 

Betty shrugs and lies, “Yeah, he mentioned that he couldn’t quite find the physics text he was looking for, so I was just asking which ones.”

Amy sighs. “Oh yes, Dilly’s been looking for someone to return the set of Feynman’s lectures to the library for a while! We fear they might have been stolen!”

“Sorry about that,” Betty says and starts to back away slowly. Dilton seems visibly relieved at the prospect of her impending departure. “Good luck on your search, though!”

~~~

On Wednesday, after sweet-talking Pop for the freshest cinnamon rolls and a pot of coffee, Betty makes her way to the Southside Auto Shop, as has become a customary part of her routine. 

She is surprised to see Sweet Pea in the office in Jughead’s place. He smirks pointedly at her as she walks in. 

“Jughead’s not here, Blondie,” Sweet Pea informs her as he pokes around the files. His expression is one of amusement when he says, “I thought he texted you to tell you that? He wouldn’t have wanted you to be here without him.”

“Huh,” Betty says, realisation dawning. “He doesn’t have my number because I have just been showing up.”

Sweet Pea taunts, “Well, are you sure you want him to have your number?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Betty asks him archly.

“He’s the leader of the Serpents, Northside,” Sweet Pea points out, eyes searching hers for something. “His dad went to jail for doing the same job a few years ago.”

Betty shrugs. “So?”

“He’s dangerous.”

“As am I,” Betty responds, and Sweet Pea grins at her in disbelief. She wants to roll her eyes. There are other ways of being dangerous than just physical menace. Not that she lacks physical menace, in any case.

“Are you warning me to stay away from him?” Betty asks. Not that she ever does what people say.

Sweet Pea shakes his head, with that punchable, shit-eating grin on his face. The crescent-shaped scars in her palms itch. “Just letting you know.”

“Well, consider me informed,” she spits, lips twitching in annoyance.

To Betty, it seems as if Sweet Pea relaxes somewhat. 

She continues with a wave of her hand, “Anyway, that point is moot because Jughead and I are just... negotiating.”

At this, Sweet Pea makes a loud scoffing noise. “Some negotiations. You’re an interesting one, Northside.”

Betty rolls her eyes. “If I leave this for him, then will he get it?”

“Are you his wife or something?” Sweet Pea jokes, and Betty feels herself flush. “You bring him treats every day.”

“How very 1950’s of you Sweet Pea. Good to see the wave of feminist liberation has made its way through gang hierarchies,” she snarks, crushing the top of the paper bag in her curled fist. She is itching to sink her fist into his face.

Sweet Pea laughs and teases her, “Ha! You sound just like him. Yeah, but like, who are you? You just showed up out of the blue. Did he order you online or something?”

Betty bares her teeth. “What, like a mail-order bride?”

“I mean, I won’t judge. I’m not here to kink shame my main man,” Sweet Pea smirks. “Just checking. He’s not holding you captive or something, right? You do have a green card? I can help you leave the country if you need?”

Betty tosses her ponytail and sniffs. “Ha, ha. You’re hilarious. Okay, I will leave them here. Rest assured I will text Jughead, so you can’t eat it instead of him. Have the coffee if you want. I would hate for it to get cold.”

Sweet Pea grins. “Thanks, mail-order.”

She hands him the cup and flips him the bird. She enjoys his spluttering laugh behind her as he chokes on his hot coffee. Dick. 

When she gets back to campus, she pulls out her phone and sends Jughead a text. 

**Betty:** Hi Jughead, it’s Betty. I left you a cinnamon roll at work. Careful, SP might eat it

 **Jughead:** Wow that’s so lovely! Thank you

 **Jughead:** Sorry I missed you

 **Jughead:** But I’m glad you texted

She cracks her knuckles, feeling frustrated and knows why: Jughead Jones and his myriad personas. High school Jughead, Radio Host Jughead, Serpent King Jughead and the guy who seems to actually want to make her _pancakes_? Which one is the real one? Are they all real? What functions do they serve? Another puzzle, another mystery. 

**Jughead:** Will I see you tomorrow?

She leaves the text unanswered, glaring at her phone.

~~~

When Betty arrives back into the dorm room that evening after her self-defence class, Veronica is sitting cross-legged on her bed, reading her criminology textbook. Her expression is one of abject disgust. 

“Fuck that asshole, Grundy,” she snarls, chewing on her pen. “He sets so many assignments. I have no idea how you get through them all. Plus this final paper is fucking brutal.”

Betty hums nonchalantly as she dumps her gym bag. “I just really enjoy them. It’s like a fun puzzle for me.”

Veronica looks up and smirks. “Plus, it’s not bad when he fawns over your every move.” She puts on a smooth, deep voice and says, “Oh, what a prodigy Betty is! Why can’t the rest of you turn in assignments that are insightful, accurate and enjoyable to read? You should all learn from her greatness!”

Betty laughs. “He does not say that about me.”

Veronica raises both her eyebrows. “Yeah, girl, are you sure? Are you sure that you’re not equally fascinated with him or something?” 

“Eww, Veronica, gross!” Betty shudders. “He’s old enough to be my dad!” 

Veronica rolls her eyes. “I didn’t mean like _that_ , you moron, I meant professionally starry-eyed. Anyway, as for the other thing, I know you’re hot for basilisk boy.”

Betty giggles and tries to make her voice sufficiently threatening to say, “Don’t you dare make a joke about Slythering into my chamber of secrets or something because I swear to god, Veronica, I will smack you. I’m high on adrenaline tonight. I want to do something reckless.”

Veronica grins. “Yeah? What are you planning?”

“Oh, just a casual session of B&E.” Betty’s voice drips in excitement. “I’ve decided I’m going to break into Jughead’s office to see if I can find anything to either blackmail him with, or see if anything ties him to Viper Radio, so he can’t ignore me.”

Veronica leans back on the bed and shoots her a sardonic look. “Babe, I don’t think he’s ‘ignoring you’ as you put it. I just think he’s interested in keeping his radio persona private.”

Betty is about to rebut when her phone rings. “Oh sorry, it’s Alice.”

Veronica rights herself and insists, “Tell her to call me, and we can all chat on speakerphone! Your 3310 does not have such impressive features.”

Betty snorts and answers the phone, “Hi, mom, can you call Veronica? She wants a group chat.”

Alice trills, “Certainly, honey.”

Moments later, Veronica’s cell rings. “Hi, Alice! Such a pleasure! How are you?”

She puts the phone on speaker, and Betty can hear her mother say, “Doing well ladies, busy day at work, but thought I would just check in. How are you both?”

“I’m drowning in the pressures of the American youth of today,” Veronica laments piteously. “Aka, I am behind on my assignments. But Betty has already done hers and is now investigating.”

Alice hums in interest. “How’s that going? Any news?”

Betty shakes her head. “Not great and I’m feeling a bit antsy about it to be honest. I questioned the ex boyfriends of two of the three girls that have received tapes and neither of them seem to have done it, at least from their reactions and behaviours.”

“You don’t seem convinced,” Alice points out. Veronica stares at her.

“I’m not,” Betty agrees. “But for now I have to look elsewhere. I will re-analyse the videos with fresh eyes in a few days to try and jog my brain. I think I might catalogue the timings and cross reference them.”

Alice makes a thoughtful sound. “What about the site? Any luck with the domain name tracking?”

Betty snarls angrily, “Nothing yet! Super annoying. I just feel like I’m being hit with dead end after dead end.”

“Remind me what’s on the site again?” Alice asks, sounding tired, and Betty feels a bit worried that she’s running herself ragged. 

“You need a Riverdale College student login in to enter, and once you have access to the main site, you can scroll through photos of every girl who goes to the college complete with their full name. You can rate them as well, using a five point star scale, and there is an opportunity to leave comments,” she rattles off.

Alice clicks her tongue. “Advertising?”

“Yes, I think so, but I will need to check. A banner ad. Probably for porn, if I remember correctly.”

“Is the company that they are advertising consistent? Could you track them?” Alice suggests.

Betty exhales. “Oh yeah, that’s a great idea, mom.”

“Your old mother still has some good ideas up her sleeve.” Alice’s voice is both pleased and amused. 

“You’re not old, Alice!” Veronica supplies indignantly. 

Alice laughs. “This is why you’re my favourite, Veronica.”

Betty scoffs.

~~~

For Betty, there is nothing more delicious than a little breaking and entering. In order to be as stealthy as possible, she drives her car to her mother’s house and walks the several long blocks to get to the Southside Auto Shop. 

With interest, she notes that Jughead’s bike is there. She doesn’t want to think about how she can tell exactly what Jughead’s bike looks like half-obscured by darkness, so she pushes on. There’s another bike next to it, and Betty assumes that it is Toni’s. 

She chose this time of night because Jughead can’t spring her breaking into his office if he’s performing a live radio show. This knowledge then comes with the flood of disappointment that she’s inadvertently stumbled on to the place where they _host_ the radio show. She sighs heavily, muttering about professional courtesy and need for cool gadgetry under her breath.

Betty resolves that knowing this will not change her plans. She wants confirmation that Toni and Jughead are smart enough to throw off any cheap tracking device that one can purchase from RadioShack. 

Though the thought of him catching her in the act is somewhat tantalising (and she doesn’t want to think about _that_ yet either), she is wise to have chosen this particular hour. 

To commemorate how easily she picks the lock of Jughead’s office door ( _He should really be more careful for someone who is always harassed by Ghoulies,_ Betty grumbles to herself, _There are so many unsavoury characters in Riverdale!_ ) she decides to flick on Viper Radio and listen live while she rifles through his belongings. 

One of his t-shirts is strewn across the back of his chair, and she doesn’t even try to stop herself from sniffing at it. 

_You’re being creepy!_ She scolds herself, but then thinks, _I’m totally alone, there’s no one to judge except me…_

As she inhales Jughead’s heady scent from his t-shirt she decides that she has completely lost her fucking mind over this boy and all his personalities. 

~~~

**Viper Radio, 8-9pm**

“Poison, it’s your favourite night of the week,” Jughead says, amusement lacing his tone. 

“Fuck yes!” Toni cries, “Fan mail night!” She plays a short clip of the song, In The Air Tonight by Phil Collins in which she and Jughead speak the words: “We will read the fan mail on the air tonight, oh lord” with disinterested tones. “What do you want to open first, Python?”

Jughead muses, “Pass me that one there, the grey envelope.”

“Don’t want to start with Scarlet?” Toni makes kissing noises into the mic. 

“Nah, let’s save the best ‘til last, eh?” Jughead says, “Who knows, she might even reveal her identity tonight.”

“Dream on, man, she’s been writing you these letters for around three years. Why do you think she’ll go out of her way to tell you who she is?”

Jughead makes a non-committal sound and opens an envelope. He lets out a loud, “HA!”

“What? Let me see!” 

“The message says: **Can you play some good music, you complete dunce?** ”

“You don’t like alternative music then don’t listen!” Toni snarls into the mic. “We don’t get paid for this shit, home-boy. We do it for the kicks, and in King’s case: steamy romance with a faceless woman. Or at least he hopes it’s a woman.”

Toni cackles to herself. “Do you think that you’re being catfished?”

“What a long game catfisher.” Jughead chuckles and then adds, “We speak about catfishing a lot on this show.” 

Toni whoops. “Some people wanna see you squirm, man, I dunno.”

“Okay, moving on!” Jughead announces. “Next letter. This one reads: **I’m trying to get a girl to date me, any advice? She’s in the same chem class as me, but she doesn’t even look my way.** ”

“Not even worth it, man!” Toni screeches. 

“That’s your advice?” Jughead says, aghast, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, don’t bother with someone who doesn’t care about you. Unless he or she is just super shy, in which case, I dunno, write anonymous notes to her for three years or something? Learn from Scarlet. Next!”

“Poison, fuck me, I love you, but you are the least sympathetic person in existence.” Jughead takes a deep breath and says, “There was once this girl that I really liked, and I couldn’t talk to her either. She was utterly gorgeous - like honestly _perfection_ \- smart and had this great sense of humour. I could barely look her in the eye. It was fucking terrifying. But now, I’m better, I think. If that same feeling happened to me again, I wouldn’t let the opportunity pass me up, you know? In fact, I know I wouldn’t.”

Toni hums softly in acknowledgement. 

“All I’m saying is, and trust me when I say I’m no shrink so please don’t take this as advice with a capital A, although, good luck suing me.”

Jughead plays a short snippet from the start of Frontier Psychiatrist by The Avalanches: 'It's the opinion of the entire staff that Dexter is criminally insane.'

Toni teases, “Didn’t want to go with Insane in the Brain? Or Breathe by The Prodigy? You know _psychosomatic, addict, insane_?”

Jughead laughs. “I just felt like this song has more flair and chaos to it.”

It sounds like Toni blows a raspberry in response.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Jughead continues emphatically. “I find stoic literature helps me a lot. I write down the things that terrify me and their worst-case scenarios, and I see if I can live with that. It’s kind of freeing actually.”

“That’s good advice,” Toni acknowledges. 

“Yeah, man, so if you like someone, tell them. The worst that happens, bar like a fucking Carrie situation or something, is that she laughs at you and says ‘hell no!’. Trust me when I say this: you are fucking brilliant and awesome, and you will be fine. Thanks so much for writing in. Let me play you a song for good luck – the anthem for these issues, so to speak.”

Jughead plays The Middle by Jimmy Eat World. 

When the song finishes, Toni says, “Wow, who knew King could be so gentle? And play such mainstream songs?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Poison,” Jughead says with a laugh, brushing her off. 

“Well, help me with that. This listener has written: **Tell us something about you that no one knows.** ”

“You first, Poison.”

“I once punched a guy for kissing me on a first date without my consent,” Toni pipes up. 

“Hiss! I already knew that. Try again!” Jughead yells. 

“I once fell through a speaker at a concert in Bali.” Toni confesses, “It was just after the wet season, and I was wasted off my face dancing on this speaker with this super hot girl, and then it just _gave way_ , and I fell through the speaker on to the stage and laughed so hard I nearly peed myself. I got free drinks for the rest of the night and slept with an Aussie chick who thought it was awesome, so it was all worth it.”

Jughead whistles through his teeth. “Now that’s a good story.”

“Okay, now you.”

“Hmmm, well,” Jughead says as if deliberating which secret he will give up. “The CD that’s currently in our player at home is by Avril Lavigne because my sister is obsessed with Sk8er Boi.”

“Uh-huh,” Toni says sarcastically. “Your sister, sure. You don’t have a sister. I think you’re Losing Grip on reality.”

“Ah fuck off, Poison, I know that’s track number one. I listen to it literally every day!” Jughead protests with laughter in his tone. “And I do have a sister!”

“What would your friends say?” she jokes. 

“It’s Complicated,” Jughead deadpans. 

Toni groans loudly. “Okay, enough with the Avril puns now, dude. Bring out Scarlet’s letter!”

Jughead chuckles and opens the envelope. He inhales sharply and then exhales through his teeth. “Ah, this is intense. Okay. Here goes: **It's holding me, morphing me, and forcing me to strive… Sometimes I imagine your body over mine, your sinful words coiling in my mind as you fuck me. The scent you leave on my skin imprints me. And I want you now, I’ll feel my heart implode. It’s my last chance to lose control.** ”

“Sweet holy fuck,” Toni stage whispers. “This on air dance is so porn-ridden and desperate!” 

“I think I need a cold shower after that,” Jughead admits, voice raw. “Good choice of song too… Hysteria.”

“I think we all need a cold shower.” Toni laughs softly and adds, “Do we have to up the rating of our radio show to triple X?”

Jughead scoffs, “If you’re under eighteen, I don’t care, just don’t tell me. Listen at your own risk, dickheads.”

“And that’s civic responsibility, kids.”

“Shut up, Poison, let’s finish this up so -”

“You can finish yourself?” Toni jokes.

“Fuck you.” Jughead’s snarl is marred by choked laughter.

“Oh look King, the little light is flashing.” Toni wonders, “Who do you think could be calling at this hour?”

~~~

Betty knows it’s both insane and wrong to be so turned on by the idea of _calling_ Viper Radio for the first time ever to reveal that she’s Scarlet, but she can’t help herself. There’s something intoxicating about Jughead’s presence and doing this all under his nose makes it sexy as sin. 

She turns off the radio, so they can’t hear it in the background and presses the phone to her ear, hoping that they will pick it up. 

Despite having a landline number, Viper Radio is not really a “call in show” as Jughead has made it clear that he prefers people to write to him, but here she is, tapping her fingers impatiently on his desk hoping he will -- .

“Hello, this is Viper Radio, you’re live and on air.” Jughead’s voice makes her feel hot all over, as usual. 

Suddenly she’s nervous and can hear her words catch in her throat when she says, “Hi, this is Scarlet.”

There’s a moment of silence before Jughead snorts. “Okay, sure, babe.”

Many people over the past three years have claimed to be Scarlet and they have all turned out to be liars and charlatans because obviously Betty has never called him before this exact moment. 

It’s almost like the allure of him knowing he’s met her again in real life makes her want to entangle their personas together in a Gordian knot of delicious impossibilities. 

“I am,” she assures him, confidence returning. “I’ll prove it.”

Jughead’s mocking laugh rings down the line. “Alright, how?”

“Two options: I tell you what the next letter will say, or I tell you what the original letter said. You never read that one out on air.”

Jughead gasps, and Toni lets out a low whistle. “She’s right, Python, you didn’t start reading her letters out until a year ago. Do you remember what it said, though?”

“Intimately,” Jughead confesses, voice strained. 

“First letter,” Toni commands. “Word for fucking word.”

Betty flips open her notebook to the relevant page and puts on her best sultry tone as she whispers, “King Python, I’m so glad I stumbled upon your show during my downward spiral. I have to say that hearing your sexy voice whispered to me over the airwaves makes me feel _closer_ to… you. I’d let you complicate me any day.”

She hears Jughead’s shuddering exhale and then, “Fuck. It’s you. You’re her.”

Toni gasps, “No way! You’re the real deal? Scarlet?” 

Betty feels a thrill coursing over her body as she responds, “Yeah it’s me, King and Poison. Happy three years.”

“Holy shit!” screeches Toni loudly. “Oh my fucking GOD! It finally happened! What a reve-fucking-lation!” 

Jughead seems at a loss for words, which renders Betty simultaneously pleased and concerned.

_Talk hard to me, King Python._

“Say something, Python,” Toni admonishes him with a sound that indicates she has slapped his arm. “She’s real and a woman. How old are you, sugar?”

“Uhhh,” Betty starts, mind whirring. “Between eighteen and twenty one years old.”

“Aww, legal,” Toni croons. “So, tell us something about you, Scarlet. We’ve been postulating on your existence for years! What do you look like? What do you do? Where did you go to school?”

“I went to school in Riverdale,” Betty says because she’s not giving up exactly which school. “And now I’m at Riverdale College.”

“Do you know who we are in real life?” Toni asks excitedly. 

Betty laughs lightly, heart pounding and lies through her teeth as if she isn’t currently sniffing Jughead’s t-shirt having broken into his office to blackmail him. “No, I don’t.”

“Would you say no regardless?” Toni asks in amusement. “Jesus H. Christ, you’re a vague one. What do you look like?”

“Does it matter?” Betty inquires, a sticky, prickling feeling skating across her skin. “I don’t want to ruin King Python’s fantasies here.”

“You won’t,” Jughead assures her, voice raw. “I think you’ve made them better, actually. Your voice is beautiful.”

She squirms on his desk chair and sighs breathily, heat roiling at her core. She thinks she hears Jughead choke in response. 

“Was that first letter in reference to a song?” Jughead asks curiously, voice rough and delicious. She wants to rub herself all over him. 

“Yes,” Betty breathes. “A Nine Inch Nails song.”

“I’m familiar with it,” he croons and then sings, “You let me violate you, you let me desecrate you, you let me penetrate you…”

Betty hears her moan and slaps her hand over her mouth in mortification.

“No,” he whispers to her fiercely. “Don’t you dare fucking stop making _those_ noises, especially when you’ve been hearing me gag for years over your words. This is my revenge.”

“Mmm,” Betty hums, pleased. “And my reward. I mean, you know that your voice makes me hot. Talk _hard_.”

Jughead hisses, and Betty imagines him running his hands through his hair and messing it up. The image, the sound of his voice (his pleasure), and the knowledge of her illicit behaviour has her desperate for more. 

Without thinking twice she runs her hand up her skirt and slides it into her underwear. The thought of getting herself off to his voice in his chair makes her gasp aloud. 

“Yes,” Jughead encourages, and she’s wild for it. 

“Yeah?” she breathes, voice laden with a hideous, churning desperation that makes her tremble. She wants him to know where she is, so he can take the ache from her. 

“Sing the song to me,” he demands with a groan. “Sing it for me, Scarlet…”

“I wanna fuck you like an animal,” she purrs, fingers tracing circles around her clit as she gasps into the phone. She imagines it to be his fingers or his tongue and closes her eyes to picture his blue gaze arresting her in position.

 _My office?_ He would gasp, scandalised, but then his expression would darken, and he would be on his knees, pushing her legs apart…

“I wanna feel you from the inside,” she murmurs, her head falling back. 

She can hear his quiet breathing and how the cadence matches her own. She dips her fingers inside. She wants it to be his tongue, whispering his fucking gorgeous words and thoughts inside her. She’s clutching and dripping, desperate for his voice and his cock to fill her.

“I wanna fuck you like an animal,” she gasps raggedly.

 _You’re so filthy, Betty,_ He would hiss as he plunged into her, _And it sings to my blood. I crave it; I need it. Your darkness is my pleasure._

She hears him gasp and imagines him flushed and perfect, driving into her with abandon, cock thick and hard.

“My whole existence is flawed,” she cries, biting her lip. 

She imagines him crying out her real name, telling her that he’s always loved her. 

Her voice is strained and breathy as she gasps, “You get me closer to - .” 

She’s so high, so fucking high and all she needs is his…

“You,” he whispers hoarsely, the lines of her letter coupled with his glorious voice sending her over the jagged edge.

Betty lets out a breathy gasp as she comes around her fingers, writhing in Jughead’s desk chair, while she sings porn to him on his _LIVE radio show._

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

“Damn…” Jughead moans, and now Betty is one hundred percent certain that her decision was a good one. He is panting when he says roughly, “That was so hot.”

She imagines him rumpled and gasping from fucking her, hair messy and eyes molten and whispers, “Yeah?”

“Mmm, yes,” Jughead whispers, and she should feel jealous that he is dirty talking to another woman right now, but she just feels hot and elated because she knows it’s her power that has brought the Serpent King to his knees. 

“Uhhh,” Toni interjects awkwardly, breaking the tension. “I have to bring this conversation back to M-rated at least because _holy fuck_ that was some on-air porn, you complete dickhead! Look at you! You’re a fucking melting mess and yet stiff as a boar- OW! Don’t throw shit at me. I’m fragile!”

“Scarlet,” Jughead hisses at her, and Betty feels his voice writhe inside her like live snakes. “Are you sure that I don’t know you?”

She refuses to answer that directly. “I’ve got a song request for you.”

“Tell me who you are,” he demands, voice sibilant. 

“You know the song ‘Talk Dirty to Me’?” Betty asks him softly. 

Jughead chuckles. “Yeah, I do. Poison?” 

Betty hums, heart pounding in her chest, and says, “Actually, in 2000, there was a cover on the compilation album ‘Punk Goes Metal’ played by - .”

She hears Jughead’s soft intake of breath and holds it close to her heart. 

“- Jughead’s Revenge. I want that version.”

He makes a strangled sound and Betty promptly hangs up. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck…_

Panting and horribly aroused, Betty wastes no time fleeing from the scene of her misdeeds. 

~~~

_You know I never_  
_I never seen you look so good_  
_You never act the way you should_  
_But I like it_  
_And I know you like it too_  
_The way that I want you_  
_I gotta have you_  
_Oh yes, I do_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah the chair. Thanks **couldabeenamermaid** for your brilliance and hilarity.
> 
> And yes, Jughead's Revenge was a real punk band (they disbanded in 2001 after a legal battle over their band name with the Archie Comics haha). They started up again in 2009 under "Jugg's Revenge" and yes, they did a cover of "Talk Dirty To Me" and yes, it's on the playlist. I got you, babydoll ***winks ***.


	6. i won’t be satisfied ‘til i’m under your skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackmail (?) attempts number two and three. Jughead likes attempt number three. 
> 
> ~
> 
>  **Chapter title song:** Maroon 5 – Shiver (2002)  
>  **Date:** Thursday, 4th May 2006 – Friday, 5th May 2006

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, all the love to [redcirce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcirce) and [meditationonbaaal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationonbaaal). 
> 
> For this chapter, I would also like to shout out to [violet1429 (KG1429)](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/violet1429) for all her help with my Heather's obsession and **Walking_Contradiction** who reminded me about an amazing NIN cover "Physical" (it's on the playlist!) and subsequently screwed up my Spotify algorithm, which will undoubtedly tell my in my year end wrap up: "Georgie, you listened to one song for A WHOLE WEEK ON REPEAT, YOU PSYCHO."
> 
> As usual: [Viper Radio Playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4pw4LfrUm0cQ5DRkgvfdmE?si=DybxwnTpRke8whyyy8EOGw). Because I'm incredibly self-indulgent I also added:  
> Scarlet (2020) - The Rolling Stones  
> Viper King (2019) - Dreamtheatre  
> Even though they do not fit the timeline, they are ACE songs and I ~had~ to because they are too perfect for this playlist.

**Red_Hot_Blossom:** No you ghoul, I have no idea who would dare enact revenge on my person (I suspect no one because I am fabulous and AN ICON. Write that down on your murder board and circle it in glittery RED). I also don’t know who knows I’m a lesbian. I’ve never told anyone. Unless you’re my stalker from the future and I’ve created my own problem? Jk jk ily :P

~~~

On Thursday morning before class, Betty helps her mother with a stakeout. This week, Alice is chasing a suspected adulterer. They sit in the front seats of Alice’s nondescript Chevrolet, spying on the entrance to the local motel. 

Binoculars pressed up against her eyes, Betty asks the question that has been clattering about in her mind since she saw Jughead’s Serpent King act. She’s sure it’s an act now, she just wants to know why. 

“Hey, mom, can you please help me with a background check?” 

“Sure, honey,” Alice says, snapping some photos with her digital SLR. The long-range lens clacks against the glass window. “Who?”

“Jughead Jones,” Betty says firmly, staring at the nearby cars through the binoculars.

Alice makes a strangled noise. “ _Interesting_. Why?”

Betty is silent as she tries to think of a plausible lie.

“Do you suspect him?” Alice asks dangerously. She shifts in her seat, and Betty can already imagine her mom flicking out her switchblade and getting on her steel-caps. 

Betty starts in surprise, still staring at the cars in the motel parking lot. “Oh god no! No, nothing like that at all mom, I swear!”

“Okay, honey, then what?” Alice puts down the camera to search her pockets. Betty lowers her binoculars and watches her mother extract a cigarette and tap it thoughtfully against the pack. “You’re into him, and you want to look him up because his dad went to jail? Or are you trying to blackmail him to get on his radio show now?”

She lights the cigarette and pins Betty with her flat stare. 

“Uhh.” Betty stills at her mom’s exacting words. “Crack a window at least, mom.”

Alice rolls her eyes and opens the window. She inhales, voice stuffy with a mouthful of smoke. “I thought as much.”

Betty puts on her best puppy eyes (not that they’ve ever been effective with this parent) and pleads, “So, you’ll help?”

“No fucking way,” responds Alice on the exhale, with an air of finality of which only moms are capable. “If he likes you, and it’s relevant to you, he’ll tell you. Have some respect for the boy’s privacy, Betty. He had a very tough childhood. He’s still doing it tough, as far as I know.”

Betty scoffs, feeling ashamed, but not quite ready to back down yet. “Come off it, mom! We research criminals for a living! Don’t I have a right to know?”

Alice laughs at this. “There is joy in discovery, my darling.” She pauses for a moment and then threatens, “Would you like me to run a background check on you, and deliver it to his place for his bedtime reading?”

“Ahh no, of course not!” Betty hisses back, frustrated. She doesn’t exactly have the cleanest record herself.

“Well, then, there’s your answer.” Alice’s voice is lilting in its self-righteousness.

“Plus,” Alice says, exhaling loudly, angling the smoke out the window. “Your dad was in a drag racing gang when he was younger and he’s the best man I will ever know. He had his own rap sheet, his own problems, and I was crazy about him. He was and always will be the perfect man for me.”

Betty can hear the strain in her mother’s voice and feels herself tear up. “Mom…”

“Honey, I know,” Alice murmurs, letting go of the camera to place a hand on Betty’s leg. She squeezes it in reassurance. “He was a great father, and he was so good to us.”

They sit in silence for a moment before Alice whispers, “Look Betty, if you like him and you trust him, then trust your own judgment here. You’ve never been stupid about boys before. What makes you think that you’re being stupid about this one?”

“All the wild emotions I have that make me feel like an idiot.” Betty laughs a little manically. “And he acts differently around the Serpents.”

“Do the other Serpents know he has Viper Radio?” Alice asks curiously.

Betty shakes her head. “You know, I don’t think so.”

“Well, that could be one pretty important point. What does Veronica say?”

Betty’s lips twist and she tugs her ponytail. “She thinks he’s faking it, the Serpent King thing. She said to me ‘Where I come from, that guy is a full-on dork. There is no way that’s real’.” Betty shrugs. “You know what she’s like with New York. Then, she harps on about whipping Sweet Pea into shape, and I lose interest.”

Alice coughs around her cigarette, eyes brimming with mirth. “Sweet Pea,” she muses. “Now, that guy is a weird one too. I think he puts on a bit of an act as well.”

Betty cocks her head. “Have you met him?”

“Many times,” Alice says, taking a drag. “In lock up at the Sheriff’s department. Young Sweet Pea had an arson fetish.” She pauses, cigarette tapping against her pink painted lips and grins. “Sounds like someone I know.”

Betty rolls her eyes and grumps, “Mom, that was one time.”

Alice chuckles, “Anyway, Sweet Pea is smarter than he lets on. That’s all I’m saying. He knows how to play a part and he knows what to say to whom to get the job done. He greases the wheels, if you will.”

Alice taps her hand on Betty’s leg, jiggling her thigh between her vice-like grip. “There’s our mark!”

She snaps up the camera and starts clicking away. Betty traces the man’s movements through the binoculars and watches him get into the passenger seat of a Cadillac. 

“Note the number plate and model, Betty,” Alice insists and Betty scribbles them down on a half-used napkin. “My eyes are not what they were.”

“And your knowledge about cars is non-existent,” Betty teases. Alice clips her lightly on the side of the head and then lowers her camera. 

“I’m great at outsourcing, though,” Alice jokes, cigarette hanging from her lips. She disconnects the lens and starts to pack up her equipment. “Now, I just need the money shot.”

“So, where were we?” she asks, zipping up the case. She stubs out the cigarette and swivels in her seat to face Betty. “Yes, Jughead’s multiple identities.”

Betty worries her lip. “It’s annoying.”

“Annoying because you don’t like the person he pretends to be?” Alice probes. 

Betty takes a deep breath and tries to explain. “Annoying because I love who he is away from his Serpents. It’s not that I don’t like the Serpent King, though. Don’t get me wrong.”

Her mother raises both eyebrows in a gesture for Betty to keep talking.

“Well, whenever he puts on that arrogant act, I want to fight it out of him. I don’t really want to hurt him, it’s just, I want to _take_ him, you know?”

Alice chokes. “Betty,” she coughs, eyes sparkling. “Honey. There’s nothing wrong with that as long as you’re both on the same page. Have a conversation about boundaries first.”

Betty rolls her eyes. “I know that deep down, mom.” She huffs, “Veronica makes so many sassy comments about _role play_.”

Alice hoots with laughter. “I love Veronica." She sighs. "So, what’s the problem then? If you know it’s a persona and you know that you still like that part of him regardless, why are you so infuriated?”

“Because it feels like he’s hiding something, and I have to find out,” Betty insists, clenching her fists. 

“Ah, yes,” Alice replies. “The Cooper women mystery curse.”

Betty laughs. “I believe that he’s doing it to seem tough,” she murmurs. “Which, as a nineteen year old gang leader, must be a necessity.”

“Definitely. Gangs are notoriously hierarchical,” Alice bites out. “You told me the other day that you’ve been mostly seeing him at the Auto Shop, right?”

Betty sighs, “Yes, of course. He’s only like that in front of the other Serpents.”

“Plus, the Serpents are horribly sexist,” Alice snarls. “I mean, well, they used to be.”

Betty eyes her curiously. “Huh?”

Alice refuses to meet her gaze and digs her fingers into her thighs. “I went to school with FP Jones, Betty. Jughead’s dad. I know what he was like.”

“Oh,” Betty breathes. “Maybe he’s trying to be his dad?”

“I should fucking hope not,” Alice swears.

“I meant as an act, mom,” Betty says, rolling her eyes. “Because he’s not like that on his show with Toni, nor is he like that when we’re alone.”

Alice relaxes somewhat. “Have you asked him about it?”

Betty makes an uncomfortable noise. 

Her mother sighs, “Honey, come on. Just ask him. Communicate.”

“I can’t,” Betty whispers, voice catching. “What if he tells me that his Serpent King self is the real him?” She pauses and then remembers, “No, he wouldn’t say that. On his show last Thursday he mentioned something like ‘everyone reacts to _that_ persona of me’ and then again the other day about ‘false pretences’... maybe he was trying to tell me it’s all an act?”

“I do love it when you argue your own logic,” Alice states, watching her with careful eyes. “Trust yourself, you’re very smart.”

Betty closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, the acrid cigarette smoke still lingering in the air. “Thanks, mom.”

“You’re welcome. But you should ask him,” Alice says, starting up the car. “Because open communication is the foundation to any good relationship.”

Betty releases the breath she was holding and groans, burying her head in her hands. “Ugh, it’s all so hard.”

“Imagine how much worse it would be if you had to pretend to be someone else to run a gang on behalf of your imprisoned father,” Alice deadpans. “Not to be specific or anything.”

Betty glares at her mother’s shit-eating grin through her splayed fingers the whole ride back to campus. 

~~~

After Grundy’s last class for the semester on Thursday, he ushers Betty into his office, trailed by a sour-faced Bret. 

Grundy shoots a pointed look at Bret and says sharply, “Well, don’t just hover around, Bret. Betty and I would love a coffee and some cookies.”

To Betty it seems as if Grundy has verbally slapped Bret across the face. “Uh,” he says, expression unsure and hurt. 

Betty concedes that she would feel more sorry for him if he weren’t such a jackass towards her. Bret has thrice “accidentally” marked her assignment with the wrong grades in the online portal, so now Grundy personally oversees his marking of her assignments. Bret contends himself with snide comments and filthy side-eye glances sent her way. 

He swallows and takes a breath. “Sure thing, Professor Grundy.”

Moments after he exits, Grundy breathes a sigh of relief. “That guy is such a brown-noser,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I used to work at Yale, and I have seen my fair share of sycophantic behaviour. They always turn eventually. Why, one of my old grad students was such a sweet lady who turned out to be quite the poisonous little bitch.”

Betty smiles because she feels uncomfortable by his statement. 

“That old adage about keeping your friends closer but your enemies closer is terribly relevant to me, my dear.”

Grundy makes a truss shape with the tips of his fingers as he leans back in his leather desk chair. Betty’s eyes flick to The Beatles No.1 poster on the wall behind his head.

“So Betty,” he says with shining eyes. “Take a seat, let’s talk about the RA work. I’m hoping that you read my email?”

The momentary weirdness passes, and Betty nods. She can’t help but smile to match the enthusiasm her mentor exudes. “Yes, absolutely,” she gushes and pulls out her notebook. “I’m really thrilled that you’re considering suggestions from me for your research!”

Grundy smiles warmly at her. “Betty, I’ve said it before, and I will say it again. It is honestly my pleasure as an educator to have such a bright student as yourself to work with. I’m encouraging you to come forth with your own cases or research topics that you and I can work on together.”

Betty’s heart is pounding in excitement. _My favourite teacher wants to work on what I choose?_

She grins widely and says, “Well, I do have a proposal that I’ve written up about the intersection of social media and cyber crime. Given it’s an emerging area of academic research and not much has been published on the profiling front, I was hoping that we could focus on our own real-life case at Riverdale?”

Grundy looks intrigued. “Great idea,” he says, encouraging her. “Which case is this?”

Betty responds, “The RateRiverVixens site. I would like to use that as the live case-study from which we can generalise based on corroborating facts with literature reviews.”

“I love it, Betty,” Grundy booms with eagerness. “What a great idea!” He points to the corner desk in his office and says, “You can work there if you want. I can move Bret.”

Betty shakes her head. “Not necessary at all, Professor Grundy,” she insists.

“Please, Betty, when we research, call me Gerald,” he interrupts gently. “We are peers when we research, after all.”

Betty nods, feeling thrilled that Professor Grundy - _Gerald_ \- wants to work with her as an intellectual equal. 

“So, I was saying,” she continues, trying to remind herself why she wasn’t going to move her work into his office. “I don’t want to remove Bret, and I’m more than happy to come in here to theorise and discuss, but I do have other classes, my work, and other things to get to, so it doesn’t seem fair that I take Bret’s desk.”

“You offered her my desk?” Bret says, aghast, at the door with their coffees. 

Grundy shrugs. “RAs should be closer to their sponsoring faculty members.” He turns to Betty and asks, “What other job? I am paying you for this, you know. Just put in as many hours as you want. You don’t need another job. What is it?”

Betty smiles and politely shakes her head “Oh, I just help my mom out with some work for her PI business, nothing much, just admin.”

“Good,” Grundy says. “You’re not working on any other cases at the moment are you?” He looks thoughtful for a moment and continues, “We can definitely widen your research scope to include whatever else you are working on if helpful?”

Betty grins and, with her best angelic voice, lies through her teeth, “Oh, there’s nothing else this substantial, I assure you.”

There is a moment of silence before Grundy nods and slaps his desk. “Okay, let’s talk research approach and plan!”

~~~

An hour later finds Betty back in her dorm and alone. Veronica is presumably off with some random that caught her attention at the water fountain or on the way to class. This is good because Betty needs some time to reflect.

She cannot describe the feelings of excitement that flood her at the thought of working with Dr. Grundy – _Gerald_ \- on this case. She can only explain her reticence in sharing all her theories with him being based on the pure academic need to show off her skills to her mentor. The more she can work on her theories in the background and substantiate them with evidence, the better she can impress him.

Betty taps her fingers impatiently on her laptop and logs in to the RateRiverVixens.com site. She wrinkles her nose at the top ten “Raunchy Vixens and Babes of Riverdale.” She does not want to busy herself going through all the comments and work herself into a hurricane of fury, so she focuses on the banner ads. 

_Well, well, well… Riverdalecam.com, huh?_

Betty smirks and checks her notebook. It is one of the five sites that Monica works across, which isn’t too surprising given cam sites prefer to pretend their talent is local. 

_So, who owns Riverdalecam.com?_

Betty searches for the ownership of the site online but finds nothing. She refrains from clicking into the site itself, not wanting to expose her IP address to whomever owns the site and resolves to search in one of the college’s computer labs. 

She has one hour before Jughead’s show starts and tonight, she would like to listen to it live, so she makes her way across the campus to break into one of the labs. 

Betty listens to her Discman (Paranoid Android is playing) as she logs in using a Riverdale College guest account and goes on to the porn site. 

She’s immensely pleased to note that there is no firewall preventing her access.

Betty peruses the site in an intense fashion, almost as if she stares long enough at the stills of the half naked women and men that some epiphany will materialise out of the erotic pixilation. 

She scrolls down to the bottom of the site and notes “contact us”. With raised eyebrows, she clicks the link. It’s broken, of course.

Back to the homepage, Betty’s eyes scan each wire frame, avoiding the lacy underwear and tattoos to a tiny little mark at the bottom corner. 

© David Stewart

 _Well hello there, son!_ Betty thinks to herself as she writes this name down. 

After searching the Internet for “David Stewart Riverdale” in a few different combinations to no avail, Betty sighs and pulls out Val’s carefully curated folder of Riverdale College donors and starts to sift through manually. 

~~~

**Viper Radio, 8-9pm**

“And that was Muse with Time is Running Out,” Jughead says. “I know it’s Thrash it Up Thursday, but I wanted that song, and this is my show, so deal.”

“Tonight, we are going to talk movies, not books. Mainly because I can’t stand the idea of talking about the Intolerable-Wank-of-Existence book that you mentioned last week,” Toni chimes in and then continues with a certain slyness in her tone, “I wanted to get your opinion on a movie that came out around this time two years ago.”

“Fuck no!” Jughead snarls, “I am not talking about Mean Girls on air, Pretty, fuck that right off.”

Toni cackles with laughter. “It’s always my favourite way to rile you up.”

“You know that to this day, I still cannot believe that I let you drag me to see that film,” Jughead laments. “When you said ‘Python, it’s the new Heathers,’ it set my heart a flutter. _A flutter_ , Poison. Do you know how hard it is to get me excited about shit? And then you ripped my heart out and stomped on it, you utter bitch.”

“I bet if Scarlet were to ask you to watch Mean Girls with her, you so would!” Toni sings. Then she quips, “Or not watch, because, you know, the Bijou is dark. Do you remember when I played Alanis Morissette for one whole week after a particularly gruelling break up?”

“How could I forget that delightful week?” Jughead responds dryly.

“Okay, fine, it was all the angry women songs I so desired, and then Scarlet writes to you and says something like: “Sorry that Poison is having such a hard time, please send her my love. Break ups are horrible. I’m really enjoying all the riot grrrl music, though, so thank her for her great taste. In a slightly different Morissette vein, I have a quick question for you, King: Has anyone ever gone down on _you_ in a theatre? You ought to know that I would.”

Jughead chokes, and Toni breezes past his insecurity to say, “You made that exact noise when you read it that time! Anyway, maybe you will have your chance of Scarlet going down on you at the Bijou, especially now that she's called in. She obviously likes you.”

"Yeah," he quips. "Kinda suspect though, right? Why now? What's her angle?"

Toni snorts. "Dude, I would have thought that obvious." There is a beat of silence and she continues in a teasing tone, "To get in your pants." 

“Fuck off, Poison,” he retorts and clears his throat. “Scarlet speculations aside - because they've never gotten me anywhere in the past as Scarlet does what she wants regardless of my feelings - I’d still rather watch _or not watch_ Heathers, literally any day of the week. It’s infinitely superior.”

“Yeah?” Toni parries, “How so?”

“I’m glad you asked, Poison,” Jughead declares in cheerful tone.

“Oh boy,” Toni sighs as if knowing that she’s settling into a classic Jughead rant.

“Let me put aside the eighties versus naughties vibes and music, the calibre of the talent – yes I am referring to Lohan versus Ryder – honestly no comparison there, the cinematography and focus on the plot for a moment,” Jughead warms up.

“First, I want to just point out that you love Winona because of Beetlejuice --.” Toni snarks, interrupting him.

“Oh man, I love Winona in general. She was awesome in Edward Scissorhands as well. Just impeccable.”

“You also love her because she so gracefully and perfectly embodies the role of an outsider,” Toni says. “And you love to claim that you’re a weirdo outsider.”

“Mmm, that I cannot deny,” Jughead laughs then he scoffs, “I can’t believe you threw me off my rant, Poison! You’re so good at this.”

“I’ve had years of practice, so it’s almost too easy,” she cackles delightedly. “Secondly it seems unfair to compare Lohan to Ryder, because Lohan was a wet towel in that film. You should be expanding your rant-slash-analysis to include McAdams at least.”

“Nah I want to ignore her. I’ll say she’s a decent actress and that’s it.” Jughead makes a dismissive noise. “As I was saying, if you tell me that it is a modern Heathers and I’ll say: bullshit. This is some watered-down, weak-ass crap that boils down to girls being petty little bitches to each other in high school.”

Toni makes a derisive noise, and Jughead ignores her, carrying on, “Heathers was Lehmann’s answer to all the happy-go-lucky wish fulfilment films about high school in the eighties. It’s a satire, and it’s delicious in the way it cynically looks at American suburbia and teen life.”

“It was a movie about high schoolers but not for high schoolers,” Toni says hastily. “And before you interrupt me, I can see that look on your face, King, let me say that it is not a fun movie for high schoolers.”

“It’s a dark comedy,” Jughead points out. “Gotta get that existential gallows humour into the disenfranchised American teen.”

Toni scoffs, “O-M-G, you are such a JD.”

“Or a Mark Hunter,” Jughead adds.

“Yeah well,” Toni says with mirth lacing her tone. “Are you sure you don’t just have a Happy Harry Hard-on for Christian Slater?”

“Mmm well, he is hot, I’ll give that to him,” Jughead muses. “What, Poison? You don’t have a moratorium on my gaze!”

“Python, my man, I am so glad I’ve been such a great influence on you.”

He sighs wistfully. “And that you have. I would have been lost without you.”

“Ain’t that the truth my little lamb,” Toni jokes, and then her voice takes on storytelling quality. “Now, let me convince you that you have your head up your ass when it comes to Heathers.”

Jughead groans, “No, please… not more Mean Girls. What really annoys me about that movie is how caricature-like those girls were. Can anyone write a female character with more depth than that?”

“Aww, are you pulling the feminist card on me right now, you smug ass?” Toni says in an endearing voice.

“Those women were dangerous,” Jughead insists. “I stand by their power and depth of character.”

“You think Heathers had depth of character?” Toni repeats incredulously. “They used being gay as a plot point for teenage suicide.”

“Oh yeah, that was super shit,” Jughead agrees. “At least Mean Girls has better representation.”

“That sparkling water joke always makes me laugh despite how annoyed I am that it exists,” Toni snorts inelegantly. “It is more a comment on the times, than the movie, but still.”

“But, Veronica, played by Ryder, was more complex than Lohan’s Cady.”

“Was she though?” Toni queries. “I mean, both of them just wanted to be popular and willingly screwed over their first friends – in Veronica’s case, it was Betty, and in Cady’s case, it was Damian and Janis.”

“Yeah, but in Heathers those girls have teeth, danger and desperation,” Jughead informs her. “In Mean Girls, they are just ditzy and bitchy. Plus the humour is super cringe.”

“Ha!” Toni barks a laugh. “I mean, I will agree with you there. But dude, in general you are blinded by nostalgia here. Heathers is sharper, more vicious and to you – way hotter - because you love powerful women, but only because JD insists on killing everyone, and Veronica is so swept up by him she agrees with his manifesto. She’s only powerful because he drags her along with him--.”

“Until the end,” Jughead points out. “And she rises up and saves the school from his psychotic ass. That was some awesome character development. Much better than Mean Girls.”

Toni whistles. “Her smoking on the steps is literally my favourite scene ever.” Then she laughs. “Only you would say that confronting your former lover about their homicidal tendencies with a cigarette-in-mouth to prevent them from going full Ted Kaczynski is a compelling character arc versus something wholesome like friendship.”

“I’m going to completely ignore your reference to Ted Kaczynski, because we have discussed him so many times from the perspective of his theses. That’s a rabbit hole down which I don’t want to venture tonight,” Jughead sasses.

Toni chuckles at this, “I know, right? The last time, we pulled an all-nighter and went really deep into his mathematical theories and philosophies. Plus, then it was two am, and you decided to read about the psychological torture study he was a part of. Then we got pizza. It was a weird night.”

“I barely remember it,” Jughead says with a laugh. “Except to say that it was like weird fucking fever dream like the one in 2001: A Space Odyssey.”

Toni snorts. “I am now just imagining you worshipping a monolith to be honest. You know how much I love sci fi, but damn I hate that movie so much it makes my eyes bleed.”

“Ahh! Don’t you dare besmirch Stanley Kubrick in front of me ever again!” Jughead cries. “Or I will quit being your friend!”

“Whatever, drama queen,” Toni says dismissively. “But, your comment about it being a fever dream really speaks to me. Anyway, can we get back to the matter at hand?”

“Yes!” Jughead exclaims, “So in summary: Mean Girls can burn. Veronica Sawyer is just so fucking cool. The story is way darker and hotter. Plus that movie is insanely quotable.”

Toni laughs. “For all you listeners, I am rolling my eyes dramatically right now. I am fairly certain I convinced you of some points, but you’re an intellectual snob and a pop-culture philosopher, king.”

“Aww, Poison, you just know how to sweet talk me,” Jughead croons.

“What’s your favourite quote anyway?”

“It’s so hard to decide, but I’d probably choose ‘If you’re going to fuck with the eagles you have to learn to fly.’ Basically anything that JD says is hot, but most specifically his: ‘The extreme always seems to make an impression’” Jughead states.

“Did the movie Heathers raise you or something?” Toni jokes. “Plus, I totally imagine you delighting over the phrase: ‘Society nods its head at any horror the American teenager can think upon itself.’”

“I should get that as a tattoo on my body. Ugh, there are too many good ones!” Jughead laments. “I can’t pick because that whole movie is brilliant. Also I love the ‘dear diary’ one.”

“Dude, that is such a you thing to say, you angsty, obsessive little fucker.”

“What? What do you want from me, Poison?” Jughead put-ons in an affected tone, “‘Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Theresa?’ ”

“Oh, that chain saw line reminds me of the song to play!” Toni crows. “Tie Her Down by Senses Fail.”

~~~

On Friday, Betty decides that she wants to catch Jughead in his radio show.

She jumps into her Dodge and ventures to the Riverdale RadioShack to acquire her wares out of respect for those in her profession and to both Toni and Jughead. 

“A radio frequency detector?” asks the store clerk, raising both of his eyebrows. Betty assumes that he had never seen a woman walk in here before demanding such a device. “And a video camera?”

“Yes,” she says with an innocent smile. “Physics project, you know?”

The store clerk nods, and Betty can't help but stare distractedly at his little goatee, lamenting all of the current facial hair trends. Damn Nickleback.

She pockets the video camera, reminding herself to set it up in the theatre department before the weekend is over.

She turns over her new shiny radio frequency detector in her hands and grins. She already knows his station number (obviously) and all she has to do is wait for this evening when he starts his show and turn it on. The signal should get stronger the closer she gets. 

~~~

Betty’s super sleuthing leads her right to where she suspected it would: a completely random location on the southernmost point of campus. Toni and Jughead are both too smart not to re-route their RF signals to somewhere abandoned. Betty is supremely proud of the two of them as she pads through the vacated building, peering absently into the rooms. The whole place has a very eerie feeling to it, and all the open doors leading into an inky blackness give Betty the creeps.

Sighing happily ( _They’re both so clever!_ ), she drives to Southside Auto Shop. 

The lot is deserted as Betty sneaks up to the rec room. It’s nearing nine o’clock, and as she stands around the corner of the building in the dark, she wonders how the hell she should play this without coming across as… well, someone who needs a restraining order taken out against her.

She jiggles her legs a little bit in the fresh air, not having changed out of her summery dress from earlier in the day. She watches, half in shadow as the clock ticks past nine and then nine fifteen, and finally she hears the door to the rec room scrape open. 

Her heart leaps to her throat as she creeps around the side of the building. Toni stands at the door, pink hair illuminated in the light of the nearby streetlamp, and says tiredly, “Again, as I mentioned a mere two minutes ago, I think you’re reading too much into the silence, dude. Finals are coming up, people get busy.”

Betty can hear the whine in Jughead's tone but can’t make out his words. Toni sighs, “Well, if they are her thoughts on the matter, then you know I'm with her. I know what you’re doing and I back you, always, but I still can’t fucking stand it. That’s why I don’t visit this place in the daytime unless I’m jonesing for a fight.”

She laughs at something Jughead said and adds, “I used that term deliberately, you dork. Anyway, are you sure that you’re okay to pack up? I know you’ve got to pick up Jellybean and get back to the house to feed Myxie. Anyway, I gotta finish this assignment for artificial intelligence.”

Betty can’t hear Jughead’s reply, but Toni flips her hair and says, “No, you dweeb, you don’t need to quote Asimov at me, you know. We are a fair way from needing to invoke the code. Also, the way I see it, that first rule is going to get screwed anyway, not because humans are inherently evil, but because we are a bunch of selfish and negligent dicks.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Toni barks out a laugh. “Yeah, well this is why you do philosophy and not me. I don’t have patience for that -,” she puts on a deep voice, presumably to imitate Jughead, and says, “- If you have a boat and replace one plank of wood, would it be the same boat? So on and so forth until I expire from sheer boredom or go on a murderous rampage.”

She leans against the frame, listening.

“Gah! I am leaving now before I stick you under a fucking trolley,” she laughs and starts to close the door. “Get out of here quickly, okay?”

Toni walks off in the opposite direction, and Betty takes a deep breath before walking up to the door and opening it.

“Back to get royally owned in a philosophy debate with me, Poison?” Jughead says in amusement as she walks in. His back is facing her as he pulls a dust cover over his equipment. 

The room is darker than she expected. 

The sounds of Nick Cave and the Bad Seed’s Red Right Hand filter through her consciousness. It gives the whole atmosphere a deliciously dangerous vibe that makes Betty feel just as illicit as the other day.

“Something like that,” she whispers. 

Jughead’s spine stiffens, and his hands freeze over the equipment. 

“Betty?” he says. She hears the undercurrent of warning in his voice and is thrilled by it. 

“Yes, King Python,” she replies, watching him intently. He tilts his head slightly and turns ever so slowly to face her. 

His expression is guarded, and he grips the table behind him so hard his knuckles turn white. “How long have you been here?”

She takes a moment to run through why it might be that his reception is a little frosty. She surmises it likely has something to do with this being his safe-haven from his aforementioned social anxiety. In her haste to get what she wanted and seek the help she needed, she completely failed to recognise his feelings, just assuming he would be okay with it because of the tough-guy Serpent King persona.

She takes a deep breath and smiles softly at him, willing for him to see the truth in them. “Have I mentioned how much of a fan I am? I’ve listened pretty much since the start.”

Jughead’s eyebrows shoot up and a small, adorable smile touches his lips. “Seriously, you?”

Betty nods. “The first show I listened to, I was in the garage working on my car – you know, the Viper - and I was bored, so I turned on my dad’s old transistor and scanned through the channels. You – King Python – said the word ‘Viper’, and it caught my attention, so I kept on listening.”

Jughead’s stiff demeanour slowly relaxes, and he nonchalantly crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah?”

Betty smiles warmly. “Yes.”

“So, you found me,” he says simply, gesturing around the room. “Well done, I guess?”

“Thank you!” Betty chirps. She holds up her RF detector. “A little RadioShack purchase.”

He rolls his eyes and smirks, the edge of angst and pain that she detected before suddenly gone. “That would not have worked.”

Betty bites her lip, disguising a grin. “Yeah, I know that now after traipsing around that creepy building for a while trying to find you. I just figured you would be here.”

Jughead’s expression is a mix of perplexity and amusement.

Betty looks around and notices a tub of papers. “Your lovely fan mail?” she asks curiously. 

Jughead glances to where she is pointing and raises his eyebrows. “Not always lovely to be honest.”

Betty slowly walks over to the tub, aware that Jughead’s eyes are tracking her movements through a narrowed glare. His predatory gaze makes her thrill, nerve endings skittering with tension, willing for him to pounce. 

She pokes through the box, looking at the handwriting and the questions of the people who choose to write to a notorious gang leader about problems with their home or family life. 

“Looking for something?” he whispers in her ear. Betty starts, and she feels his hands come down on her waist, holding her against him. She didn’t realise how close he was, as she was so engrossed in the messages in front of her.

She arches back against him, turning her head to stare at him over her shoulder. 

“Yes,” she admits, wanting to see her letters. “The scarlet letters.”

Jughead makes a weird noise and moves slightly, unbalancing her to the point where she falls further into him. She squeaks in surprise, trying to regain her footing, but he steadies her against him, just watching her. 

His free hand comes up, and Betty holds her breath as he brushes the hair from her face. “Why so?”

The feeling of his soft fingertips running through her hair and ghosting lightly over her cheeks makes her shudder. She hears herself let out a breathy moan as a bolt of heat shoots through her. 

“Just curious.”

“Well, you can’t,” Jughead mumbles, blushing slightly.

“Did you get rid of them?” she asks, her heart slamming in her chest with a sickening ferocity. 

He swallows hard and shakes his head, refusing to meet her gaze. “Of course not. I just don’t keep them here.”

“Oh,” she says, feeling impossibly hot hearing his admission that he has held on to her notes for all these years.

“What else do you want to know?” he asks, eyes sliding back to meet hers, a warm colour suffusing his cheeks. 

Betty feels his breath skate across her lips and wants to breathe him in. His pupils dilate as he stares at her mouth. Out of habit, she wets her lips slightly. 

“Where do you keep them?” 

Jughead’s eyes flash, and she feels his grip tighten on her. His eyes narrow, but he seems amused. “None of your business.”

In her momentary shock, he leans in and brushes his mouth softly against hers. 

She growls at the light touch, and he repeats the motion, the corner of his mouth twitching up as if he is immensely pleased with himself. 

She tugs at his leather jacket, pulling him closer. 

He sighs softly, the hand at her face tracing down her neck, across her collarbone, smiling as she trembles, to slide down her arm. His fingers leave a trail of effervescent heat in their wake, and as he flexes his hand against her arm, she wonders how someone touching her biceps can feel _this good._

“Betty,” he murmurs, and then his lips capture hers. His mouth is soft and hot, and the way he is kissing her makes her feel molten. “Are you happy you tracked me down?”

When she moans, he stills slightly, as if frozen. Concerned, she opens her eyes to meet his. His mouth is parted in surprise and his eyes are liquid as he stares at her face.

“Yes,” she admits in challenge, voice husky and desperate. 

Jughead trembles at her words. "Oh," he breathes and without warning, he spins her around and demandingly pins her up against the nearest wall. With her back against the rough brickwork, Betty tugs at his jacket, pulling him into her, seeking more. 

With the heat under his his hands and the way he has her pinned against the wall, Betty expects him to be rough, to take her with a hungry intensity. But, he kisses her lazily, plying open her mouth with his own as he kisses her into breathlessness. She feels frenzied, twisting her fingers into the leather, an unspoken request for him to take.

Instead, frustratingly, he pulls back. His eyes are glazed and his whispered, “When did you decide to come find me?” skates across her lips. She feels deliciously dirty, a liquid feeling pooling at her core when she considers how long. 

"Jughead," she murmurs, revelling in the way his pupils dilate and his hands twitch at her sides. "I said I was going to blackmail you."

He makes a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “Oh,” he whispers again and shifts her against the wall, and Betty delights in the feeling of his erection rubbing against her hip bone. She is aching everywhere and wants his hands, mouth, and body all over hers. 

She runs her hands over his chest, and he shudders when she traces a line down his sternum to the waistband of his jeans, teasing the skin at the edge, delighting in his heavy groans. 

“Yes?” she whispers and wraps one of her legs around him, holding him in place. His erection is pinned between them, and she slides on him, wanting to elicit those filthy sounds from him that made her feel so powerful. 

She rocks against him, and he makes a desperate noise. _Yes._

“Betty, I can’t,” Jughead whispers raggedly, his tight, insistent grip belying his words. “Not now.”

She mewls in disappointment, and he tentatively reaches out to cup her face, expression tender. He holds her so that their foreheads touch as they pant in concert. 

As their breathing slows, and her heart rate returns to normal, Jughead sighs and steps back, releasing her. She slumps against the wall, legs jittery. 

He scrubs his hands over his face and makes a noise of frustration. “Look, as much as I hate to say this, I really have to get home to my sister and cat.”

“You have a cat?” she breathes.

Jughead nods and rubs his palms on his thighs. “A black one with green eyes. Jellybean brought him home one day when I was a senior. Apparently, she found him in a box on the side of the road. Anyway, now I’m a cat dad.”

Betty giggles at this, heart soft at the idea of him petting a fluffy black cat. “What’s her name?”

Jughead sighs, “Myxie.”

“As in Myxomatosis?” Betty asks curiously. “The former intro song to your show? The rabbit disease?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I told JB that in the song the cat brings in a dying, diseased rabbit, and she just cooed and said ‘Myxie’ with starry eyes and well, I couldn’t say no.”

Betty has to actively stop herself from making a longing sound.

A feeling of victory floods her, and it’s enough to stave off the disappointment of having to stop touching him. 

She _finally_ feels like she’s getting through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should say: Happy Harry Hard-On is Mark Hunter's on-air persona from Pump Up the Volume, which is played by Christian Slater (who also plays JD in Heathers).


	7. a long time ago we used to be friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pop's Diner. Saturday Morning Veronica brunch date. Guess who shows up?
> 
>  **Chapter title song:** The Dandy Warhols – We Used to Be Friends (2003) - Veronica Mars Theme Song  
>  **Date:** Saturday, 6th May 2006

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments last week, I pretty much cracked up with laughter at the thought of Jughead Jones, Inventor of Forensic Moan Analysis (FMA) Ignobel Prize contender 2006 esquire. Special shout out to **minimyz** who said "make her moan -- for science" because I needed that :P
> 
> Also happiest of birthdays to **NotInWonderlandAnymore**! Hope you have a wicked day :)
> 
> Thanks to both [redcirce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcirce) and [meditationonbaaal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationonbaaal) for being gorgeous and awesome <3
> 
> The [Viper Radio Playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4pw4LfrUm0cQ5DRkgvfdmE?si=DybxwnTpRke8whyyy8EOGw) for your pleasure ;)

The following morning, Betty awakens and rolls over in bed to grab her phone and read Jughead’s texts from last night.

 **Jughead:** Betty, I’m really sorry I had to leave. Really

 **Jughead:** Not the first time I wished that I were an only child.

 **Jughead:** That’s a joke by the way, I utterly adore my sister.

 **Jughead:** Anyway, I’m rambling. We can continue whenever you’re free.

 **Jughead:** If you still want, that is.

 **Jughead:** No pressure.

 **Jughead:** I’m going to shut up now. Have a good night.

 **Betty:** No problem. You too. 

_What a stupid message to send in response,_ Betty berates herself. _What does he think about that text? That I am blasé or just uncaring?_

After uncountable minutes of freaking out over her text, Betty is interrupted by Veronica swanning back into their dorm room, her hair perfectly coiffed. 

“You’re not even dressed?” Veronica rolls her eyes and throws her a cute sundress. “Put that on, and we bounce, my babe. I’m famished, and I’ve got no time for you to sit around composing pornographic poetry for your gang leader or blogging angsty lyrics on Myspace.”

Betty makes a noise of protest as the flying dress wraps itself around her head, preventing her from mooning over the texts. She sighs heavily and dresses under Veronica’s watchful and judgemental eye. To annoy her, Bettys spends extra time brushing her ponytail into the perfect shape, complete with a perky little flick at the end. 

Veronica makes increasing noises of frustration as Betty stalls, checking all her books and stacking them in her bag. When she flips open her notebook to check her to-dos, Veronica smacks her hand away, glaring at her.

“Stop that, Betty. It’s a Saturday!” Veronica admonishes as she grabs Betty’s arm to drag her out of the room. 

Betty laughs at her friend’s impatience. She holds up her notebook at bites her lip, hoping she’s giving Veronica her best pleading eyes. “Actually, Veronica, could you give me fifteen minutes to go plant a camera in the theatre department?”

For a moment, Veronica seems on the verge of complaining out of principle, because no one says no to a Lodge, but then shrugs, a devious expression alighting her face. She puts on a posh English accent and says, “Indubitably! Take me with you, Mr Bond!”

Betty tucks Veronica’s arm in hers, and they exit their dorm. “V, you’re the one with the Aston Martin, lest we forget.”

Veronica hums as they make their way to the arts section through the sunlit quad, Betty’s RadioShack purchases in tow. “But you’re still more physically kick-ass than me.”

She turns her face up to Betty’s and trills, “Now, show me how to creep on others!”

Betty grins at her and vows, “Oh, I shall.”

~~~

When Pop Tate brings over their breakfast, he slips a piece of a paper to Veronica with a charming wink. “Can’t talk this morning Veronica, but here’s the weekly round up.”

Veronica shoots Betty some side-eye and complains, “Yes, well, we got held up.”

Betty smirks, recalling Veronica’s excitement and trepidation as they broke into the theatre department and hid a camera on a shelf across from the kabuki theatre masks. Veronica rolls her eyes at Betty’s smug expression and turns back to Pop with her _good girl_ demeanour.

“Pop,” Veronica grins as she clutches the slip of register paper in reverence. “You are the best. You know I can’t live without the weekly feed.”

He chuckles and leans in close to whisper, “Headline item: Midge and Cheryl had a fight here yesterday.” His brow furrows as he continues, “It was pretty bad. Midge called her a derogatory slur for a lesbian in front of the rest of the River Vixens and Cheryl stormed out, clearly upset.”

Betty raises her eyebrows, thinking about Cheryl’s now-evident lie in her email. 

“Oh poor Cheryl,” Veronica commiserates, with a low voice, eyes wide and staring as she watches Pop. “That would have been awful.”

“Yes, well,” he says with a click of his tongue. “Cheryl doesn’t take things lying down. She smashed the windshield of Midge’s car and poured her milkshake all over the interior.”

“The Maserati?” Betty interjects, torn from her internal musings on her investigation, aghast that someone would treat a beautiful car with such blatant disrespect. She then feels guilty because of what she did to Jason’s car that one time and tries not to judge Cheryl too harshly.

“One and the same,” Pop concedes with a curve of his lip, folding his arms.

Veronica’s eyes narrow in vindictive pleasure. “Good for her. That’s going to be a bitch to clean.”

Pop nods, an indulgent smile on his face. “Anyway, let me know your thoughts, I have to get back to it.”

“Pop, you’re an angel,” Veronica assures him with a regal wave. “See you soon.”

She turns to Betty and leans her elbows on the bench. Betty watches her fold the paper into a neat square and tuck it in her jacket pocket for safe-keeping. “So,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “How did it go yesterday with “blackmailing” Jughead?” The use of air quotes grates on Betty’s nerves.

Betty stabs at her yoghurt and fruit with her spoon, cutting up the strawberries into half moons and laments with a pouty expression, “He still won’t help me with the radio show, but he helped me in a different way.”

“What?” Veronica says, luminous with excitement. How she manages to shriek in such a low voice is beyond Betty’s comprehension. Her hands fly across the table to hold on to Betty’s, causing the rest of Betty's spoonful of yoghurt to slide to the table with a wet _plop_. Veronica scream-whispers with a singular intensity, “You lost your virginity last night? Oh my god, Betty Cooper, you devious little minx! You told me that there was, and I quote: No way on this sweet Earth! So he’s helping you in more ways than one! Over and over and over again, eh? Girl, I am so proud!”

Betty nearly spits out her mouthful of yoghurt. “No, no! I mean, we kissed.”

Veronica’s disappointment is palpable and she strokes Betty’s hand as if she’s experienced a regrettable loss. “I’m free later,” she assures Betty through smoky lashes, an amused gleam in her eyes. 

“Veronica.” Betty draws her name out like a petulant teen whining to her mother. She pulls her hands back so she can fortify herself with coffee. 

“He kissed you and he still won’t help you? What a dick!” Veronica hisses furiously, as Betty feels somewhat guilty that she forgot about asking him for help again. It’s not entirely her fault that she gets distracted whenever she sees him. Veronica stabs at her pancakes with vicious precision and snarls under her breath, “Presses my friend up against a wall and kisses her senseless and won’t even help her with his radio show? Why I ought to clock him in that marshmallow face of his! I demand fisticuffs! Philandering scum!” 

“How did you know I was pressed up against a wall?” Betty gasps, face flaming as she tries to sip her coffee with nonchalance. 

“You have that very distinctive look about you my dear, you know? The wall-fuck look.” Veronica flicks her manicured fingers casually in Betty’s direction.

“We didn’t fuck against a wall!” Betty screeches at her friend’s smug expression.

Veronica leans in and smirks, arching her perfect brow. “But you wanted to? Is that what you’re saying to me?” 

“V,” Betty whines, elongating the sound of the letter. Veronica’s eyes widen in alarm as she witnesses Betty slump against the table and release a mournful sound. 

A fierce look crosses her face and she leans across the table to hiss, “What has Holden Caulfield done now? How that weedy dork managed to capture your attention, I will never know.”

“Veronica,” Betty seethes, thinking of her _years_ of porn writing and wanting to bury her face in her hands as she thinks about what she did on Wednesday night. On his chair. “Don’t.”

The brunette raises both eyebrows and levels her with an incredulous expression. “So because you knew he was sweet in high school, he can go around being hot and cold with you now?” She flicks her wrist in a careless gesture. “And you’re fine with that?”

“He’s not being hot and cold,” Betty defends to Veronica’s disbelieving face. “In fact, he has made it super clear that he likes me around.”

“Has he said that?” Veronica implores. “You know, in the kink community, we have the little thing called _communication_. You should try it. Just ask him about his Serpent guy thing.”

Betty rolls her eyes and tucks her hands under her chin with a huff of air. “I will, okay? I spoke to mom on Thursday, and she said the same thing.”

“Good. I want to get to the bottom of this,” Veronica says, jabbing her fingers on the table to emphasise her point. Her nails clack against the shiny veneer. “I know you don’t want to address it head on because you’re both still doing your kinky foreplay --” she laughs at Betty’s feral sneer “-- but I can see how distracted and stressed you are about him, and I can’t have that. Plus, you can’t have that either! I know you’ve only got one exam, but all your papers are due in two weeks!”

“I feel like I should point out the irony of you harping on to me about homework,” Betty taunts her. 

“Not harping!” Veronica refutes, with a smile on her face. She sticks her nose in the air. “Just encouraging you to get laid before you set your papers on fire from the effects of spontaneous combustion.” 

She tilts her head to pin Betty with a sharp stare. “So. Ask. Him.” She punctuates each word with a stab of her fingernails. 

Betty exhales softly. “Asking seems like cheating, somehow? I feel like I should be smart enough to figure this out by myself.”

“Ugh, I know you do.” Veronica makes a soothing sound.

Betty takes a small sip of air and rushes on. “I can’t eat, can’t sleep until I’ve analysed every angle, worried through every problem, teased apart the puzzle and lain it all in front of me.”

“I know,” Veronica repeats, eyes soft. “But, Betty, he’s also a nineteen year old boy. He’s going to be stupid.”

Betty shakes her head. “No way, not Jughead. He’s so smart, Veronica. You’ve heard his show.”

Veronica casts her eyes to the heavens, evidently asking the gods for strength. “It’s one thing to have a soap box with which to announce your theories to the world and another to have people challenge them in real time,” she points out, wrapping her fingers around her mug of coffee.

“You don’t know him like I do. He’s creative and very intelligent.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me, Betty,” says a smarmy voice at her shoulder. 

She stiffens and rolls her eyes. “Get lost, Jason.”

She turns to face Jason and is surprised to see him with Reggie, Archie and Moose. 

“Maybe now we can go out?” Jason asks snidely, and Reggie punches him on the shoulder in admonishment. 

Betty makes an exasperated noise and folds her arms over her chest. “What makes you think I’ll say yes now when I’ve said no at least one hundred times before?”

“One day you’ll say yes,” he vows, still leering at her.

“I told you once that I’d rather sit pretty on a public tumble dryer for kicks than have you near me,” Betty says with sweet venom in her tone. Across the table, Veronica squeaks in excitement. “Rest assured that hasn’t changed.”

Veronica giggles into her pancakes, eyes shining as she looks at Betty with undiluted adoration. 

Jason folds his arms and glares at her. “So I guess you and your hot friend here don’t want to come to our party tonight?”

Veronica’s whole being perks up at the mention of the word “party” and she shoots Betty an excited look. Betty shakes her head. _No Veronica, we are not going to a party hosted by this douche-canoe!_

“I’m Veronica, by the way,” Veronica says blithely (blatantly ignoring all of Betty’s very clear signals and probably imagining all the boys that will strip for her in a game of competitive cards). 

Archie seems enchanted, and Betty rolls her eyes again; Archie gets distracted by every skirt that walks past him. Veronica would eat him alive. She idly hopes that Veronica will, because Archie is well meaning but has left a string of broken hearts in his aftermath. He’s as flaky as a croissant when it comes to love.

“That’s Archie, Reggie, Moose and _Jason_ ,” Betty introduces them all with a hard edge to her tone, almost spitting out the Blossom boy’s name. 

“Lovely to meet you all,” Veronica says with a winning smile, and the men look at her with such interest. Betty has never seen Reggie’s eyes _sparkle_ quite like that before. Even the sweet Prince of the Maple Syrup Dynasty Jason Blossom looks a little flushed. 

Betty grins to herself. _Oh, Riverdale’s upper crust Northside is not ready for Veronica Lodge._

“You’re hot,” Reggie says with characteristic bluntness, a smirk appearing on his face. 

Veronica purses her lips in agreement. “Obviously.”

Reggie grins and leans on the table in a move that Betty has seen countless times in the Riverdale cafeteria. Betty recognises it as one of Jason’s signature moves, used to intimidate or impress. On Reggie it comes across as flirtatious. “Want to hang out with a man of means?”

Betty chokes on her coffee because of how perfectly Reggie has set himself up for a Veronica-classic teardown. Betty can almost hear her mentally flex in preparation. 

“Thank you, but not even slightly,” Veronica assures him with an angelic smile. “I guarantee that I am simultaneously too hot and too rich for you.”

Reggie, who has always been a sucker for the girls who treat him with mean-girl gloves, almost salivates around the weird scoffing noise that escapes him. 

“Oh yeah?” he taunts, eyebrow raised. “Prove it.”

“The name is Veronica Lodge, of Lodge Industries. Maybe you've heard of my family?” she announces with an elegant wave of her hand. 

Betty snorts in laughter as both Reggie’s and Jason’s mouths drop to the floor. Of course they both know who Veronica’s parents are, although Betty would wager that the Lodges are worth a mint more than the Blossoms or Mantles.

“Wait, you're a _Lodge_?” Jason says with an awed voice. “Your parents are worth -- .”

“A few billion, last time I checked,” Veronica muses as if it is merely a throwaway remark. Reggie looks flummoxed. “So, now that my credibility has been established, can you please stop harassing my friend here and tell us where the party will be?”

“Did someone say party?” Sweet Pea’s voice smoothly inserts itself into the conversation. 

Betty feels her heart leap to her throat as Jughead and Sweet Pea emerge by their booth. 

The juxtaposition of the Northsiders and Southsiders could have made a compelling picture had Betty had her mother’s SLR on her at the time. Jughead and Sweet Pea stand with casual, relaxed stances, smirks adorning their faces, dressed head to toe in black and leather. Jason, Reggie, Moose and Archie all fold their arms in discomfort as they turn away in their stonewashed denim and polo shirts. 

“Not to you, trailer trash,” Jason snarls at them. Betty and Veronica jointly make sounds of protest. Sweet Pea laughs and cracks his knuckles.

Jughead shoots her a deliberate look, and she watches him don his Serpent King persona, louche and arrogant. 

She grins because now that she is convinced that this is all an act, she can have a little fun with it.

“The nomenclature we prefer is Southside scum or Serpent scum,” Jughead points out with a jaunty grin. She still wants to lick the smile from his face to make him gasp. “It’s something about the ‘s’ alliteration that really turns us on, you know?”

Jason says nothing, opting instead to look uncomfortable. 

“I don’t want to talk about what turns you on,”Moose spits at him. Moose is so far into the closet it is going to take an expedition to Narnia to extract him. 

“I do,” Betty announces. Everyone at the table turns to stare at her, and she smiles serenely. She catches Jughead’s look of happy surprise.

Sweet Pea coughs to disguise his laughter and elbows Jughead in the ribs. Jughead just stares at her, rubbing his ribs with his mouth parted, oblivious to the rest of the world.

Sweet Pea snorts and intervenes, “Jug would be happy to sit down and outline it for you, draw a diagram or something? Right Jughead?” 

Jughead snaps out of his trance and mumbles, “Yeah, sure, of course. A diagram or whatever.”

She can’t help herself when she tilts her head and smirks up at him, “Just one? Too easy.”

Betty thrills when she hears Jughead’s sharp exhalation and sees a light dusting of colour suffuse his cheeks. She loves how easily she can get to him.

“Get a room!” Moose complains, evidently offended by the hetero display. 

“They can’t,” Sweet Pea quips. “They’re both in a stand-off to see who is going to cave first.”

Reggie, who has been looking bemused for most of the conversation, glances up at Sweet Pea with a smile. “Who do you have money on then?”

Veronica perks up at the mention of a wager and angles herself more fully into the conversation.

Sweet Pea grins and shoots Jughead a look before saying, “Blondie, for sure.” 

Veronica hums in approval. Betty fails to quell subsequent her blush, and Jughead shakes his head at Sweet Pea, rolling his eyes. 

“Traitor,” he stage-whispers.

Archie, never to be left out of a conversation, pipes up, “How are you doing, anyway, Betty? It’s been ages since we’ve caught up!”

She smiles at him, reminding herself to be polite. “You know me, snapping necks and cashing cheques. You?”

Archie laughs. Jason wrinkles his nose in distaste at their friendly exchange. 

“I’m good, thanks! Still helping your mom with her PI business?” he asks, seemingly interested, and Betty wonders if it’s a show for Veronica. Archie has never really cared about her. She was never popular enough to be noticed. 

“Of sorts,” Betty says without elaboration, waving her hand. “Mostly just doing my own investigations at this point. What are you up to?”

“Just study,” Archie says, a familiar placid expression on his face. “I’ve picked up music, which has been a lot more work than I expected.” He shrugs and shoots Veronica his puppy dog eyes. “But it’s fun.”

“Good.” Betty gets out through her now gritted-teeth, hoping her lack of information and vague responses will quickly get rid of him and she can stop with the social niceties. 

“Yeah, and I’m doing commerce with Jase and Reggie, too,” Archie adds, looking at Jason for the alpha’s approval. Jason gives him a crisp nod. Betty refrains from slow-clapping Archie on his notable achievement.

Jason turns to Jughead and gloats, “How do you like that, Southside scum? Looks like you’re forever destined to work at the auto shop.”

Jughead smirks. “Not that running the Southside Auto Shop is anything to be ashamed of.” He pats Sweet Pea’s shoulder in solidarity. “But, I actually go to Riverdale College with you all.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason sneers, losing a little of his steam.

“Yes,” Jughead responds.

Betty sees the corner of Jason’s mouth twist and injects hastily, “Jason, give it a rest. He studies psychology, anthropology, literature, philosophy and ethics, okay?”

Everyone around the booth looks at Betty in surprise. She feels her heart pound in her throat as if she has just revealed _how much_ she knows about Jughead Jones. The guy in question might also find it weird considering she’s never spoken directly to him about his classes.

She tries to lower her gaze, but instead finds herself staring straight at him as if in challenge. His lips are curved, and he looks so _smug_ for some reason. 

Betty glances at Veronica, who nods once and says smoothly, “So, where is this party then?”

Reggie and Archie both look at Jason with pleading expressions, probably hoping Veronica will be sweeter on them for it. Jason heaves a sigh and says, “Thornhill.”

“That gothic horror? Yes please. We’ll be there,” Sweet Pea smirks. “I can’t wait to see how this all unfolds.”

“I don't care if you come or don't come,” Jason pouts with an off-hand shrug, before folding his arms over his chest.

“Ah, so that’s why you’re such a ladies man,” Betty says, clicking her fingers together as if she’s solved a particularly complex mystery. “Gotta leave them wanting that release, am I right, Jase?”

She is thrilled when she manages to startle a laugh out of Jughead. Betty grins at him. Jason looks incensed. 

“I still won't help you with your own release,” Jason says through gritted teeth. “You’ll have to remain virginal, sweet Betty Cooper.”

Jughead looks between her and Jason with narrowed eyes, like he is missing a joke. 

“Guess I’ll just have to hop back on that tumble dryer,” Betty taunts, tearing her eyes from Jughead’s odd response to her sexual status. 

Veronica cries, “I fucking love you, Betty Cooper. This is my favourite breakfast date ever.”

The boys are silent as they stare between the women in the booth. In the brief moment of silence, Betty hears Don’t Ask Me by OK Go start on the jukebox.

“Well?” Veronica snaps at them, taking control of the situation again. “We are in the middle of breakfast here, so take a seat or leave, but don’t just gawp at us like a pack of uncouth idiots.”

Jughead clearly does not need telling twice. He takes the seat next to Betty and gestures for Sweet Pea to sit next to Veronica. 

He glances from Betty to the Northside guys and makes a shooing motion with his hands. “We will see you all tonight. No need to act so desperate.”

“You mean like Betty, here?” Jason snarks, arms still folded. 

Betty sees a muscle Jughead’s jaw twitch and decides to intervene before Pop Tate has a turf war on his hands. 

“Jason, I’m desperate for you,” she croons, pitching her voice low and sultry. He turns to her and gulps involuntarily. Jughead looks at her with a shrewd expression. Betty finishes with a snap, “To leave me alone. Go have your Mr Brightside moment elsewhere.”

Veronica giggles and slaps her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Jughead shakes his head, a huge grin alighting his face. 

“Are you two getting food?” Betty asks, trying to ignore Jason’s looming presence.

Reggie, to his credit, has enough of his wits about him to drag Jason from their booth, wincing in apology.

“Of course,” Jughead grins. “I can’t survive without it.” He casts a look around the diner and sighs, “Pop looks very busy this morning so Sweet and I will go up and order.”

They both stand, and Jughead turns back to Betty, tapping his fingertips on the table as he stares down at her. “Betts, don’t give my seat to anyone while I’m gone.”

Betty starts at the nickname and feels herself flush. “No problem Jug.”

A cute look of surprise crosses Jughead’s face before he taps his fingers on the table once more and walks away.

“Aww,” Veronica croons. Betty pokes out her tongue. 

At the counter, Jason appears to be harassing Jughead, and Veronica makes a growling noise as she watches them.

“Fuck me, that Jason is a tool. But that Reggie guy is kinda hot,” Veronica murmurs. She tilts her head like she’s considering something and says, “Well, he could be like a hot, dumb fuck. The moronic ones are always overcompensating in the bedroom with sheer raw power.”

Betty laughs at this. “Don’t sleep with Reggie, please. I think he would try to have sex with a lamppost if it had tits.”

“Ha!” Veronica snorts. “He so would. It’s totally fine because I want to bang the tall hot Serpent guy.”

“Sweet Pea?” Betty clarifies. 

“Mmmm,” Veronica hums, watching Sweet Pea with a hungry look. “With a nickname like that you just know he likes it rough.”

Betty giggles and turns to look at the counter. Jughead turns his head at that exact moment, and she locks eyes with him. 

Veronica makes an exasperated noise and complains, “Can you just bang and get it over with? You keep undressing him with your eyes, and I fear it’s catching! What if I wake up one day and think he’s _dreamy_?” She shudders delicately. 

“Kettle,” Betty points to herself and then to Veronica, “Pot. Just because he’s not your type.”

Veronica groans, “I make it a point not to date emos. They’re such tortured souls. Filled with ennui and all that.” Her mouth curves into a sly smile as she purrs, “That’s not how I like my torture.”

“You don’t date at all.” Betty tosses a balled up serviette at Veronica’s grinning face. 

When the Serpents rejoin them, Jughead slides in next to Betty and flashes her a cute smile. 

Betty, because she’s thrown out the entire rulebook for dating, decides to perform the classic and elaborate-fake-yawn-and-throw-thine-hand-around-the-shoulders-of-the-object-of-affection move. Jughead watches this entire manoeuvre, nodding at her with that same grin on his face, clearly impressed by her approach. 

He curls his arm around her and tucks her against his side. Betty surreptitiously sniffs at his clothing, wondering if Sweet Pea and Veronica would notice if she rubbed herself all over him. 

Judging by their amused expressions, she figures they would notice, but they would also approve. She considers it.

“Betts,” Jughead whispers to her up-turned face, lips moments from hers. “What are you doing tonight?”

“She’s going to a party,” Veronica interjects, tapping her palm on the table, her polite gavel demanding order. 

Sweet Pea takes Veronica’s moment of distraction to steal a piece of her pancakes. Veronica slaps him across the chest with the back of her hand and shakes her head. 

“Ask before you touch,” she purrs, and Sweet Pea looks intrigued. She turns back to Jughead and snaps, “You heard me, _Serpent King_.”

Jughead bristles at her direct challenge and Betty sees a muscle in his jaw twitch. His eyes narrow as he says, “What did you just say?”

Veronica stabs her manicured fingernail towards Jughead and snarls, “Betty and I are going to a party tonight, and I won’t have you swoop in here like a freakish bird and steal her away.”

Jughead heaves an insolent sigh, clearly baiting Veronica. “Betty is a person, Veronica, not an object. Don’t speak about her like she has no agency.”

“I’m also right here,” Betty reminds them, because apparently, they need that.

“Don’t you _dare_ invoke feminism in my presence,” Veronica screeches over her growls of frustration. She locks Jughead in a heated death-stare. 

Sweet Pea’s eyes shine as he looks down at her. “You’re just like Toni,” he sighs wistfully. He tucks a hand under his chin, bringing himself to Veronica's eye level. “Right, Jug?”

Jughead snorts, breaking the stare-off. “Yeah, but Toni would punch first, then lecture.”

Veronica curls her fist and bangs it on the table for effect, escalating from polite control to active dominance. “I will gladly follow her winning formula for you two jackasses.”

“Veronica,” Betty interrupts, casting a worried look between her and Jughead. “You can’t - .”

“Jackasses? Really?” Jughead complains with his Serpent smirk. “At least give me a more intellectual insult.”

“Have I offended your delicate sensibilities?” Veronica throws across the table, clutching her cutlery in white-knuckled grip. “Do you want a fifty cent word? Try this one on for size then _Serpent King_ : schizophrenic.”

Jughead’s fingers tighten around Betty’s side. 

“Veronica,” Betty warns.

Veronica flashes her a resolute glare. “Well, you do it then!”

Everyone in the booth turns to stare at Betty. She can feel Jughead’s warm breath coil against her cheek as he waits for her to respond.

She takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, trying to break the tension between her best friend and her... Jughead.

“Jug,” she says softly, staring into his eyes. “Veronica and I are just confused because the Serpent King act does not really gel with how you behave around me and you know…” She trails off because she’s unsure whether Sweet Pea knows about Viper. 

Jughead and Sweet Pea share a look. It seems like there is a moment of unspoken communication that passes between them: Jughead requesting and Sweet Pea relenting with an exasperated sigh. 

“Betty,” Jughead starts. “Did you have a chance to listen to the show from last night?”

She shakes her head and her gaze slides to Sweet Pea, who appears unfazed. He, at least, has some knowledge about Jughead. She feels relieved, having been concerned that Sweet Pea has been coercing him into acting a certain way. 

Jughead wriggles in his seat, jiggling his legs. “Um well, how do I explain this? It would have been easier if you listened. Anyway, I did a segment about the nature of self and the fundamental attribution - .” 

“Dude,” Sweet Pea interjects with a barked laugh. “It’s okay.”

Jughead shoots Sweet Pea an annoyed look and then glares at Veronica. “I know it’s okay with Betty, but I don’t even know you, _Veronica_.”

Veronica’s smile sharpens in defiance. “I don’t know you either, _Jughead_.”

“Oh boy,” Sweet Pea chuckles and steals a forkful of pancakes from Veronica’s plate. The movement does little to distract her, and she grabs Sweet Pea’s wrist with force, maintaining eye contact with Jughead. She leans over and bites the piece of pancake, chewing with relish. Jughead’s lip curls in annoyance. 

Betty clears her throat, snapping them out of their grudge match. They both stare at her with sweet expressions. “Jug, Veronica is my best friend. I trust her with everything and I hope that you will be able to as well.” 

Jughead rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

Betty catches the tail end of Veronica’s gloating smirk before she pleads with her friend, “V, please?”

Veronica’s eye roll is almost exactly the same as Jughead’s. “Fine.”

Betty bites the inside of her mouth to stop herself from smiling as Veronica and Jughead give each other one more good glare for lasting measure.

“I kissed her first,” Veronica mutters under her breath, getting in that verbal jab to the gut, and Jughead bares his teeth at her taunting smirk. 

Betty sighs. 

There are a few moments of silence in which Veronica keeps eating her pancakes with a deliberate hand and pointed looks at Jughead, evidently knowing his weakness for food. He winces at the clatter of the cutlery against the plate as Veronica stabs the crockery to increase his ire. 

Jughead watches her with a tight jaw and Betty curls her fingers around him, trying to soothe him through touch. After a beat, he releases a long, low breath and relaxes. 

He cranes his neck and looks around the diner before whispering, “Have you both heard of the movie ‘The Princess Bride’?”

Betty shrugs, confused by the start of this secret. “Yes, of course.”

Jughead clears his throat and ventures, “Well, you know the part about the Dread Pirate Roberts?”

From what Betty recalls of the film, Dread Pirate Roberts was the identity assumed by several pirates, including the lead male character, Wesley. They all used the reputation to intimidate their opponents, before retiring and secretly passing on the name to someone else.

Jughead tilts his head towards her and gnaws on his lip awkwardly. He looks embarrassed.

“You mean to tell me,” Veronica drawls, enunciating each word as if talking to a small child. She appears vindicated as she continues, “That the _Serpent King_ is based off a _movie_? A comedy, no less?”

“It’s a classic,” Jughead hisses, by way of justification.

At the raised eyebrow expression surrounding the table, he sighs again and explains, “I saw it with Jellybean.”

He shoots Veronica a look to stop her from interrupting and explains, “So dad went to jail around three years ago. We knew that he was going to be put away at some point. It was just a matter of time.” His hand tightens at Betty’s side and he elaborates, “Dad taught me what to do and how to be the Serpent King from as early as fifteen.”

Betty’s heart clenches as she thinks of Jughead learning how to take over a gang while they were still in high school together. How did she not know this?

“But, there was backlash to your leadership,” guesses Veronica with a toss of her glossy black hair. “Because you were a child.”

Jughead snorts. “Of course.” 

“Which is where I come in,” Sweet Pea says, puffing his chest up as Veronica turns her dark eyes on him. “I’ve been in the Serpents with Jug for years, and we went to school together. I took him under my wing because he’s _such_ a shit actor.”

“Hey!” Jughead interjects.

Sweet Pea grins rakishly, crooking an eyebrow. “Complain all you want. I’m right. You wear your heart on your sleeve, you broadcast your emotions, and I can practically _hear_ you brood.”

“Fuck off, Pea,” Jughead whines, clearly uncomfortable.

“Anyway,” Sweet Pea continues, flashing a broad grin at Jughead, “As I was saying, baby Jug here - ow! Dude, don’t kick me under the table - this guy couldn’t hold down leadership at fifteen with his self-effacing attitude and intellectual posturing, especially with the old guard breathing down his neck. So we had to construct a persona befitting of the Serpent King.”

Betty is sure that Sweet Pea’s model for the ideal Serpent King is himself. 

“We got the idea from The Princess Bride, which Jelly made Toni and I watch for a movie night. Despite the cyclical nature not being the same, it gave me a chance to start acting while my dad was still in charge,” Jughead informs them. “And it worked. When he went to prison, I assumed leadership, no questions asked.”

Sweet Pea smirks. “I still have to remind you to get in character every day. Multiple times a day.”

“I’m a flawed human.” Jughead waves a hand dismissively. “But it mostly works. It’s just not all facets of me. It's just a very small sliver.”

Betty feels pleased to hear him admit it. A warm feeling spreads through her as she thinks of how clear and eloquent he is, so impressed with his efforts for the Serpents. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the leadership aspect. I just wish I could do it as me,” he confesses, hanging his head. “Overall, I am trying to pacify the Serpents and generally bring the gang into the twenty-first century, especially with respect to treatment of women and people of colour.”

Veronica scoffs, “Doesn’t your asshole act undermine that?”

“Another classic Toni comment,” Sweet Pea breathes, impressed. Veronica shoots him an arched look. 

Jughead’s hands curl into fists. “Of course it does, but there are many more pressing matters, and it’s a transformative process.”

“So Toni hates this?” Betty asks softly, staring up at Jughead. The snippet of conversation she overheard last night suddenly made complete sense. Jughead was worried that she was going to turn away from him because of his gang personality. 

His mouth twists, and he nods sadly. “She and Jellybean both are ‘bring your whole self to work’ people, and I am not there yet.”

“You’re doing good, Jug,” Sweet Pea encourages. Jughead still seems dejected, his body slumping across the booth. 

“Yeah,” Jughead whispers, voice cracking. “So good that I’ve been upsetting Betty.”

She feels her pulse quicken at the confirmation that he’s been thinking about her. “You haven’t been upsetting me,” she reassures him.

Veronica mouths the word _liar_ across the table. Jughead glares at her. 

He looks back at Betty and shudders then readjusts on the seat so that he can stare into her eyes. “Betts, I’m so sorry, I should have told you. It’s just that I didn’t quite know what to say?”

His eyes search hers, earnest and beseeching. She feels impossibly light and victorious, knowing now that she was right all along.

“It’s okay Jug,” she murmurs and feels the tremor of relief go through him. “It’s totally fine. I get it.”

“Really?” he asks, gaze skittering across her face. 

Betty nods, biting her lip. “I’m glad you told me. I have been confused about it.”

Jughead makes a mournful noise and hangs his head. “I’m so sorry.” He slams his eyes shut and grits his teeth. “Really I am.”

“It’s okay,” she repeats and makes a soothing motion with her hand on his thigh. “I’m not going anywhere.”

An adorable smile touches his lips, and he cracks an eye to look at her. “You aren’t?”

She pokes him lightly in the side in annoyance. His stomach growls in response. 

“Sorry,” Jughead grins sheepishly, opening his eyes. “I’m famished. I don’t often talk about my identity crises on an empty stomach.”

Betty giggles.

Veronica narrows her eyes and asks, “So how long do you have to keep up the charade?”

Jughead turns to her. “Hopefully not forever.”

The brunette makes an impatient noise and clicks her tongue. “That’s hardly a guarantee or concrete timeline.”

“I’m not asking you to sacrifice your soul to the Gargoyle King, Veronica,” Jughead snaps. “Just pretend you don’t know me. Should be easy enough.”

Veronica laughs despite herself. “Damn it,” she swears, annoyed at her reaction. She flicks her wrist in his direction. “Fine, as long as you’re okay with it Betty? It’s going to fuck with your life more.”

Betty shrugs. “No problem. I like knowing things that other people don’t.”

Jughead grins at her, eyes shining.

Across the table, Sweet Pea makes another move on Veronica’s pancakes. 

Veronica turns to him and states crisply, “Would you be interested in being topped? I’m just _itching_ to do it.”

He blushes as Veronica pins him with a flat stare, fork gripped tightly in his hand. “Uhh,” he stammers.

She takes a sip of her coffee and breezes, “No need to freak out. Let me know when you’ve decided.”

She sighs and swivels back to Betty. “So, can we go to this party?”

Betty hates choosing between her best friend and Jughead, so she tries to make it inclusive. “Jug, did you want to come?”

“I’ll be there!” Sweet Pea pipes up, staring at Veronica. 

Jughead deliberates, gazing between her and Veronica. The brunette smirks at him and folds her arms. His lip curls in response and he growls, “Fine, but I _hate_ parties.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Of course you do, beanie boy. It’s _so alternative_ to reject mainstream ideas of fun.”

He makes a weird scoffing sound in the back of his throat.

“How punk of you,” Veronica taunts him before popping a strawberry in her mouth and chewing with what seems like an air of great personal victory.

“I’m not _punk_.” Jughead scrunches his face at Veronica’s smug display of chewing and turns back to Betty. He hugs her close and whispers, “I’m going to invite the other Serpents.” 

“You do you, girl,” Veronica sings. 

Jughead makes an impatient noise at her.

“Do they know the act?” Betty asks, trying to distract Jughead from his competition with Veronica.

He turns to face her. “Just the core group. Toni, of course. Sweet Pea and a few of the others. I’ll introduce you to them tonight. They’re in on the charade.”

Betty looks up at his face, and her heart stutters in her chest at his grumpy expression. He’s so cute when he sulks; she wants to bite his lower lip.

He catches her staring at him and pouts further, “What?”

“I’m happy to be a part of it,” she says, angling her head towards his. 

She smiles and brushes her nose along his jaw so that she can inhale his scent. Jughead’s breathing hitches, and he slides his arms over hers, drawing her closer. The feeling of his bare arms on hers makes her feel light-headed, and she gasps into his neck.

“Huh?” Jughead whispers, sounding dazed as his fingers draw teasing circles across her skin. She arches back to stare into his eyes, revelling in the hazy quality as he zeroes in on her mouth. 

“I’m happy to play along,” she murmurs across his lips and is gratified to see his eyelashes flutter as he stares at her, hungry. “If you want.”

“You’d do that?” His voice cracks adorably, and the tone of his voice reminds her of his responses to her scarlet letters. Her body fizzes all over, thrilled to witness him getting flustered over her. 

She brushes her lips across his, drinking in his little gasp. “Of course.”

One of his hands snakes up and threads through her hair at the base of her ponytail, cupping her head. His fingers tighten against her scalp, and Betty hums in pleasure feeling the slight prick of his nails as he holds her in place. 

Jughead’s pupils are dilated, and he is flushed, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession. Betty almost purrs at the feeling of power she gets by seeing him pant underneath her. 

He wets his lips. “Betts,” he chokes, eyes darting all over her face.

“Mm?” She whispers her lips against his, and Jughead’s hand twists at the nape of her neck, rewarding her with a tingling feeling that dances down her spine. 

“Want to come with me to this stupid party?” His nose rubs against hers, nuzzling it closer to her cheek. “Please?”

“On your bike?” She gasps in delight at the thought of speeding through Riverdale with him on a snarling bike, kicking up dust and annoying neighbours in their wake. Maybe he’d let her try and drive it.

He chuckles, breath coiling over her cheek, making her shiver with want. “Yes, unless you want to drive the Dodge. I’ve only got the bike.”

She angles his face so that she can kiss him, a feather-light touch, and he moans in response, holding her tight against him. She watches his throat convulse before he takes her lips with insistence, both of them instantly breathless as their mouths meld together, desperate and messy.

“Yes, yes,” she murmurs against his lips, feeling drunk on the taste of him. She is vaguely aware that she has crawled into his lap at this point, peppering kisses across his face. “Let me ride you.”

Jughead splutters, eyes blown wide. 

“I mean your bike,” she whispers, licking his bottom lip and watching him shudder in pleasure. 

“Uh-huh,” he breathes, a smug look flitting across his features. “Freudian slip?”

She runs her fingertips across his stomach and fists her hand in his t-shirt. He yelps into her mouth, an excited look in his eyes. She wills him to devour her, to take away the building ache. 

“Food?” She hears Pop say at the entrance of the booth. She doesn’t care, she could do more than just make out with Jughead Jones in a public diner. 

Jughead, however, starts, suddenly made aware of their audience. The expressions on the faces of Veronica, Sweet Pea and Pop are nothing short of shark-like grins. Veronica appears impressed despite shaking her head. The plate clinks on the table, too loud in the awkward silence. 

“Yep.” Jughead jostles Betty in his arms, clearly embarrassed. He turns to Pop and says in a small voice, “Thank you.”

Sweet Pea seems to be actively biting the inside of his mouth to prevent himself from cracking up. “Dude,” he whispers, voice strained in effort. 

Jughead glares at him and reaches a shaking hand towards the burger, evidently trying to devise a way to eat it and keep his arms around Betty. His brow furrows in the effort of concentration. 

Betty sighs, “Jug, you should probably let me out, I need to go back and study for finals anyway.”

He rewards her with her favourite crooked grin, a flush of colours still dusting his cheeks. “At least I won’t be distracted from my food. Pick you up at nine for this hellish teen experience?”

“If you’re nice, I’ll let you buy me a slushie,” Betty quotes from _Heathers_. 

Jughead shudders and places a hand across his heart. “Betts,” he growls. “Please have mercy. We’re in public.”

She grins and tries to manoeuvre around him to get out of the booth. Jughead actively avoids touching her further, trying to leave a foot of air between them. Sweet Pea chuckles around large mouthfuls of his burger as he watches Jughead’s weird behaviour. 

Veronica sing-songs, “We will see you two later tonight.”

She offers her elbow to Betty so that they can link arms, but Betty chooses to lean back over the table and leave Jughead with a parting shot. 

“By the way,” she says, watching him swallow visibly. “That was no Freudian slip.”

~~~

When they get back into the dorm, Veronica teases, “Oh my gosh, Betty, how far gone for this boy are you?”

“I’m so not ‘gone’, Veronica,” Betty lies, bending down to pick up a package at the door of their room. 

“Yes, you are,” Veronica insists, eyes gleaming in excitement. “You’re _in love with him_. I think you have been for a long time.”

Betty cackles, an edge of hysteria to her tone and _denies, denies, denies_ , “No way, I’m totally just using him.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Using him for happily ever after maybe.”

“Nah, just for work,” Betty says.

Veronica hoots as she throws herself onto her bed. “I call that the biggest fucking lie of your life.”

Betty hums manically and tears open the package to avoid discussing the topic further. 

It’s a video tape. With her name on it. 

She lets out a shaky breath. 

~~~

When Veronica leaves to go get her hair and nails done, Betty declines to join her, choosing to make her way to the AV club and watch the film.

Kevin raises both eyebrows at her entrance and informs her he has to leave her alone today. As he exits, she invites him to Jason’s party because she feels so on edge and guilty about her behaviour and needs to distract him from looking too closely at her.

Then, she locks the door behind him and watches the film.

On the fourth run through, she pinches herself to draw her out of the numb feeling seeping through her veins.

Her video is distinctly different from the other ones. There is no parody of her performing some sex act (perhaps because she’s never had sex) but there is copious footage of her walking from class to class, her driving in her Dodge and her entering the Southside Auto Shop. There is even footage of her talking to Jughead on the first day she saw him. Unlike all the other videos there is a message at the end that chills her: **I am watching you, Betty Cooper.**


	8. shock, horror, you’ve seen your future bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~party time~
> 
>  **Chapter title song:** Arctic Monkeys – Dancing Shoes (2006)  
>  **Date:** Saturday, 6th May 2006 - but just later in the day ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the love, everyone! I hope your week is going great <3
> 
> Love to [redcirce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcirce) and [meditationonbaaal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationonbaaal) for being gorgeous and awesome <3
> 
> Also happy birthday to chrissmou! I hope you have a smashing day :)
> 
> Get on YOUR dancing shoes with the [Viper Radio Playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4pw4LfrUm0cQ5DRkgvfdmE?si=DybxwnTpRke8whyyy8EOGw).

Betty and Veronica wait in the car park closest to their dorm for Jughead and Sweet Pea. Betty is wearing a pink tartan mini skirt (Veronica’s choice) and a sleeveless white clingy top. Veronica looks like Posh Spice, dripping in liquid chrome, and Betty wonders how she is going to get onto Sweet Pea’s bike without flashing the entirety of Riverdale on their ride over. 

“Hand me your flask, Betty,” Veronica demands, holding out her hand impatiently. “I need a wake-up slap to the face after all that study we had to plough through today. Also I need to anticipate being ploughed by something else later.”

Betty snorts and hands Veronica her hip flask. “Always the drama with you Veronica,” she tuts, and the brunette grabs the vessel from her hand, eagerly taking a swig. 

She splutters, “Fireball?”

“Yeah, I’m all about cinnamon at the moment. What were you expecting?”

Veronica chokes, “Honestly? Straight dry gin would have been better than this trash.”

Betty’s laugh is drowned out by the approaching sound of motorbikes.

“Mmm, come to mama,” Veronica purrs and smooths down her skin tight dress in anticipation. 

Jughead and Sweet Pea pull up near the sidewalk. 

“Betts,” breathes Jughead, taking off his helmet, and running his hand through his hair. Betty is surprised to see he’s not wearing his beanie. 

He stares at her like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. After a few beats, he picks up his slack jaw and coughs. “Um, do you want my jacket so you don’t freeze on the ride over?” 

“You think I’m going to get cold when I’m pressed up against someone so hot?” Betty quips. She hears Jughead’s sharp intake of breath. “But I think I’d make a cute Serpent, so yeah, throw me the jacket.”

Jughead shakes his head slowly, just staring at her. 

Sweet Pea, appraising the brunette with interest, says, “Veronica, now that I see you standing up, I can see that you’re tiny.”

“Thank you, but I’m sure _you’re_ big enough regardless of my size,” Veronica states boldly. Jughead stifles a laugh, and Betty looks on with amusement. 

Sweet Pea flashes her a huge grin. “Doll, I come as a matched set. With Fangs.”

Veronica seems intrigued. “So you’re into vampire sex? I mean, I can get behind it if that’s what gets you off. Who wears the fangs?”

Jughead chuckles. “Fangs is a guy, Veronica. He and Sweet Pea -- .”

“-- have an arrangement,” Sweet Pea finishes, not taking his eyes off her. “He gets to watch and maybe some mild participation.”

Veronica, if possible, seems even more thrilled by the concept now. “Oh? Is he as hot as you?”

Sweet Pea smirks at her and says with a wink, “Not possible. No one is as hot as me.”

Jughead makes a scoffing sound that distracts Sweet Pea. He interjects, “You forgot about Joaquin.”

Sweet Pea rolls his eyes. “I wilfully ignored Joaquin, like I always do.” He turns back to Veronica. “I stand by what I said.”

Veronica holds up her hands and jokes, “I’m so sorry, my liege, you are the fairest in the land. Okay, well, I’m up for whatever.”

“Oh?” Sweet Pea says with raised eyebrows. “I thought you Northsiders were too stuck up for a bit of fun.”

“Babe,” Veronica says, tossing her glossy hair. “I’m from New York.”

Jughead shakes his head and hands Betty his jacket, taking her attention from the conversation of kink negotiation going on in the parking lot. 

He hums his approval when she dons his leather and winks at him. 

“So,” she says, putting on a deeper voice, trying to impersonate Jughead. His eyebrows shoot to his hairline, and he gives her a wry grin. “Want to ride on something more powerful than a V10?”

Jughead colours and laughs helplessly. “I _never_ said that to you!” He cocks his head to the side and smirks. “Are you sure that this isn’t some fantasy, Betts?”

Betty continues with her charade, making her eyes wide and innocent-looking, “Oh yes, Serpent King, please!” She flutters her eyelashes for effect.

He makes an awkward sound in the back of his throat and rubs the back of his neck, chuckling. “Stop, you’re killing me, Cooper.”

“I like the mouthfeel of it,” she returns. Then she quirks her lips and purrs, “Or would you prefer me to call you King Python?”

Jughead groans and scrubs his hands over his face. “Betty, stop torturing me.”

“Or?” Betty whispers, brushing her leg along his and watching him still. “What will you do?”

Jughead gives her a look between splayed fingers. “Just get on my bike. I don’t need more reasons to skip this party.”

She grins and tucks herself behind his back as a shield for their ride to the Northside.

~~~

When they arrive at the oppressively looming door to the Blossom’s, there are several Serpents waiting for them, chain-smoking by their bikes.

“Didn’t want to go inside without me?” Jughead quips as he helps her off his bike and throws a casual hand around her shoulder. “You guys are so adorable.”

“Shut it, Jones,” Toni glares at him, jabbing a cigarette in his direction. “You know we hate this cocksucker Blossom guy.”

“Don’t use cocksucker like an insult, Toni.” Joaquin complains, “You know that’s my AOL email address.”

Toni cackles. “You might want to check that, babe. I hacked that account in my fucking sleep. Cocksucker is mine now!” 

“You hellacious tech wench! I loved that account!” Joaquin screeches in frustration. “All my boy toys, babe! Think of the online action I was getting!”

Toni smirks and takes a long drag of her cigarette. “Well, you should have had your password as something other than _cuminmymouth_ , because knowing you, that was way too easy to guess. Try to use some random letters or numbers in there to spice it up, okay, babe?”

“I demand you give me my account back, you hussy!” He rounds on Jughead, eyes pleading, “Merciful Serpent King, make this disgraceful peon hand me back my cocksucker account!”

Betty can feel Jughead’s chest vibrate against her hand, and his face is pained, like he is trying to stop himself from laughing. 

“The dramatic one is Joaquin,” he whispers to her softly. 

“He is pretty,” Betty returns in a low voice.

Jughead pokes her in the side in admonishment. 

“Not as pretty as you,” she grins up at him. He nods, looking chuffed. 

“Which one of you is Fangs?” Veronica demands the group. Sweet Pea barks a laugh.

“Geez,” Jughead murmurs, voice amused. “I think Sweet Pea and Fangs have finally met their match.”

“I’m Fangs.” A man steps forward, cocking his head to the side in curiosity. “Who are you?”

Veronica walks up to him and inspects him like he’s a racehorse for breeding. The Serpents watch her with a mixture of approval and confusion as she pries open his mouth to check his molars. 

She releases him and nods, satisfied. 

“I’m Veronica Lodge,” she says haughtily. “Do you want to watch me climb your man Sweet Pea here? Interested?”

Fangs chokes on thin air in surprise, and all the Serpents look at Veronica like a star has been born. Sweet Pea seems like he is contemplating just throwing Veronica against a wall and having his way with her then and there. 

“Oh my god, you seem like so much fun, doll,” Joaquin purrs coquettishly. “Can I watch, too?”

Fangs recovers and flips him the bird. His lips twitch into a grin before he says, “Yeah, Veronica, sure. I would love to.”

She smiles and turns back to Sweet Pea. “See? What about that took up any precious time?”

Sweet Pea looks like she has just hit him over the head with a mallet; he’s simultaneously stunned and turned on.

“Well, that was fascinating,” Toni breathes around her cigarette, amused. “But I want to get drunk, so let’s motor before all the good stuff has been slurped up.”

Jughead chuckles softly and tilts his face towards Betty. “Shall we get this over and done with?” 

His fingers run distractedly through her hair, and she hums in pleasure, wanting more. His eyes darken, and he ushers her to the door.

Toni all but kicks open the door and hollers into the house, “Yo, we are here! Party can start!”

Betty remains tucked under Jughead’s arm as she passes Jason with barely a glance in his direction. 

The Serpents waste no time in finding the drinks table and getting started on some truly heinous mixers. 

Jughead pours a solo cup of coke, and Betty eyes him in surprise. “What?” he grins at her, his messy black hair falling adorably into his eyes. “I’m taking precious cargo home tonight, so I’m not here to be reckless. I’m here to have fun with you. Plus, I rarely drink.”

She giggles, and he strokes the hair back from her face. “So, what can I get you, Betty? What do you normally drink? ”

Betty smiles serenely. “Martini. Dirty as sin.”

Jughead’s eyebrow quirks up in surprise.

“Good choice,” Toni chirps at her side, nodding in approval. “I don’t know if Blossom has olives, though, so you might just have to go straight-up.”

“Mmm, I might check the fridge, actually,” Betty muses, gaze sliding to the kitchen. 

“I’ll come. I bet there is some good alcohol that Blossom has stashed away in there,” Toni says and looks at Jughead intently. A moment of wordless communication passes between them before Toni smirks, “Let the girl go, Jughead. I want to get to know her.”

He makes noise in the back of his throat that causes Toni's smile to sharpen, and begs, “Please.”

Toni rolls her eyes in endearment, patting at his shoulder in indulgent fondness. “Any woman who chooses a martini as her drink of choice can handle me at my worst, Jones," she murmurs with a dangerously honeyed tone. "So lever your leather thong out of your ass cheeks.”

Jughead chokes and holds Betty closer to him, making Toni's eyes sparkle in amusement.

"For fuck's sake," she whispers and tucks Betty’s arm in hers to remove her forcibly from Jughead's grip. She grins in the face of Jughead's furious growling noises and drags Betty to the kitchen. 

“I’m Toni,” she announces as they enter the kitchen. “Jughead’s best friend. You must be Betty.”

Toni’s eyes are a warm, comforting brown, and she surveys Betty carefully, taking in all her features. 

“Wow,” she whispers, pink lips curving into a smile. “You are really pretty.” She casts a look back in Jughead’s direction and snorts at seeing him glaring at her from the living room. Toni shakes her head and grins up at Betty. “I thought he was exaggerating all those times.”

A look of alarm crosses Toni’s face and she refuses to meet Betty's eyes as she adds, “By all those times, I mean: In the past week.”

There is an awkward pause; Toni avoiding eye contact and Betty trying to decipher her expression. Toni releases Betty abruptly and begins rummaging through the cupboards, sheilding her face in the glassware. Betty busies herself in the fridge on her olive quest, trying to pretend like her heart isn't jack-hammering in her chest.

“Ohhh, Johnnie baby!” Toni crows moments later and pulls out a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue. “I’m going to despoil this with some cola. One Southside Sullied Scotch, I call this particular combination.”

Betty turns back and raises her eyebrows at the proposed concoction. Toni catches her look and grins. The Serpent Smirk seems to be a patent look, Betty thinks. 

“It’s a power move, babe. We are on Northsider turf. We have to act as callous about money as they are.” 

Toni starts busying herself with her drink again, hiding her face behind her long pink hair. “Now, where have I heard your last name before?”

She stills and whips around to stare at Betty. “Hang on," she cries, holding the glass out like a journalist with a microphone. "Wasn’t your mother a Serpent?”

Betty frowns. “Um... no? I don’t think so. Mom is a PI,” she corrects, feeling confused. She muses for a moment and then adds, “Although she does have a snake tattooed on her torso.” Betty licks her lips, feeling off-kilter. Alice, a Serpent? Surely not?

“Fascinating,” says Toni, flipping her hair back from her face and taking a sip of her expensive mixer. “Mmm, tastes like rich white guy tears and the befouling of the colonialist patriarchy by a lesbian of indigenous America. In a word: delicious.” 

She levels Betty with a flat stare and asks, “Has Jughead told you about me?”

Betty closes the fridge and releases, with a small noise of disappointment, of the idea of a dirty martini. “I feel like I already know who you are because of Viper Radio.”

“Damn, you know who we really are?” Toni clarifies and her eyes narrow to a glare. “Did Jughead tell you?”

“Oh no," Betty interjects quickly, wanting to prove that she is smart enough to have figured it out. "I’ve always known.”

Toni waits, sipping her drink like she has all night. 

"Ah," Betty starts, wondering how not to sound like a creep. “Well. From the moment I heard his voice, I knew it was him.”

Toni's mouth moves in an odd, roiling motion and it looks like she is sucking on her cheeks to try and stop herself from smiling.

“Don’t tell anyone, please,” Toni requests, voice hard. “There are only a few Serpents who know Jughead’s secret. And he's a fucking blabbermouth." She exhales loudly and shakes her head in lamentation. "I mean. King Python?" she cries, gesticulating with her crystal snifter as if trying to illustrate his levels of insanity. "That's just _asking_ to be found out.”

Betty bites her lip and nods. “I promise I won't say a word.”

Toni pins her with an intense stare over the edge of her glass. “So," she wheedles. "When did you say that you started listening again?”

“Before you started on the show,” Betty recalls, shrugging. 

"Huh." A curious expression flits across Toni’s face, and she remarks in a manner that is suspiciously casual, “One of the earliest fans then?”

Betty nods, trying to understand what is going on in the other woman's mind. “Definitely. I love you both. Listening to your banter is perfect, and I love the ‘fan mail’ segment.”

Toni’s grin is wide when she sing-songs, “I bet you do.”

Betty is about to ask her what she means by that when they are interrupted by Cheryl’s voice, screaming, “Unhand me you swine! Begone foul miscreant!”

Beside Betty, Toni releases a string of profanities. 

She dumps her drink and barrels past Betty, running down the corridor to the heart of the commotion. Betty turns around just in time to see Toni throw herself at a guy, pitching him forcibly to the ground.

“Hey!” Thrown-guy yells in fury as he lands with a thump on the polished floorboards.

Cheryl braces herself against the wall as she kicks the man in the stomach. “You vindictive cretin! I should have you drawn and quartered by valkyries for your toxic masculinity alone!”

Betty races over to help, spotting Cheryl's furious face in the low lighting of the corridor and Toni struggling on top of the tall man. He defends himself from her directed punches as she spits, “How do you like that, filthy fucker? Not a nice feeling when people don’t listen to consent, hey?” 

Toni is approximately half the size of the man lying on the floorboards, so it takes him very little effort to throw her off him when he finally regains his bearings. 

“Hey, Toni!” Betty takes out the Taser from her purse and tosses it to Toni who looks at her with a mix of gratitude and awe.

“Yes, bitch, yes!” Toni hisses and ignites her fury through maximum voltage. "I love electronics."

“Fuck off, you crazy whore!” Thrown-man yells as Toni threatens him with the Taser, cackling as she watches the electricity pulse between the nodes.

“You think you can just harass women and get away with it, you wretched cad?” Cheryl shrieks, flipping her hair over her shoulders. It dances like a flickering flame in the back lighting. Her claws are out as if she means to shred the man with her red painted fingernails. 

The guy on the floor is yelling his head off, and within seconds a barrage of guys floods the corridor, taking in the scene in front of them with shock. 

“Betty?” Jughead stares at her with worry etched into his features. She shrugs and gestures to the scene in front of her: Toni straddling and tasering a man, and Cheryl kicking at his legs with her patent red designer shoes.

“I’m fine,” she assures him. “Help Toni get that dickhead out of the party.”

He nods once and walks over to crouch near Toni on the floor. “May I offer you some assistance, Antoinette?” he asks her in an affected tone. 

Toni barely looks up from what she is doing and replies, “Want to put those noodle arms to good use and toss him outside?”

“With pleasure,” Jughead says cheerfully. 

Betty’s stomach clenches when she notices Jason standing by the door, looking at this situation in fury. “What the fuck are you Southside scum doing?” 

“Jason, don’t!” Cheryl screeches, whipping around to stare at him. Her hair fans out behind her as if she has an invisible motion stylist. She enunciates every word and delivers her sentence with successive jabs of her pointed nails in the man's direction. “He hurt me, and I want him out. Or in pieces.”

Jason goes horribly white and raises both hands as if to say _all yours, sis_. Cheryl does not seem shocked by his lack of open support, but her lip curls in disgust before she turns back to watch Toni and Jughead dragging the man to the front of the house.

There is uncomfortable and embarrassed silence in their wake. Cheryl takes a deep breath and turns to the group of frat boys in the corridor and smiles, a menacing gleam in her eye. “Nothing to see here, vultures.” When no one moves, she says in a sugary tone, "Now move before I feed you to the wolves."

The corridor is emptied almost immediately, a few murmured _can she do that?_ filtering past Betty and Cheryl in their rapid exit.

Betty has never been alone with Cheryl in her life and forces the words out, “Um, are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

“A glass of water?” Cheryl purses her lips and turns to face Betty. She is shaking with fury as she snarls, “Or tea laced with something strong like brandy?”

“I believe I can do both.” They walk side by side to the kitchen. 

When Betty hands her a full glass of water, Cheryl stares up at her and tilts her head to the side. “Thanks, Betty,” she says softly, running her fingers through her long tresses, smoothing them into well-defined waves.

“No problem at all,” Betty replies. She busies herself with the kettle and rummages around for the tea collection in the ensuing silence. 

“Who was that hot piece before? The one with pink hair?” Cheryl asks casually, and Betty raises her eyebrows in surprise. 

Cheryl's tone turns threatening, “Is she your girlfriend?”

Betty smiles and spins around to the sound of the kettle boiling. “No,” she says, and just _goes for it_. “I’m kind of crazy about Jughead Jones. Do you remember him from school?”

“Remember who from school?” interrupts _his_ voice at the kitchen entrance, and Betty nearly leaps out of her skin. 

“You, apparently,” says Cheryl with a smirk. Betty averts her eyes, cheeks flaming and busies herself with the cup of tea. Jughead remains at the doorjamb, gazing in.

“I kind of remember you from high school,” Cheryl says frankly but without judgment. “You kept to yourself a lot.”

Betty hands Cheryl her brandy-laced tea and forces herself to look at Jughead's face. His expression is tight and controlled.

“Did I?” he whispers, eyes fathomless. 

Betty doesn’t know what he’s feeling and is not even sure she can help, so she interjects lightly, “I remember you, Jug, from the school newspaper fun we used to have.”

His lips twitch, but at least that curious look in his eyes disappears. 

Toni materialises at Jughead’s side and interrupts them, thankfully breaking the awkward tension, “Oh, princess, are you okay?”

Cheryl beams at Toni, shimmering with radiance. “Yes, thanks to you.”

The corner of Toni’s lips turn up. “Do you - um - want to chat about it?”

Cheryl nods and the expression on her face shifts to something seductive. “Somewhere _private_?”

Toni colours attractively and manages, “Whatever you want.” She bites her lip for a moment and then turns to Betty and blurts, “Thanks for the Taser, Betty. Jug has it.”

Cheryl minces past Betty and clasps her hand around Toni’s wrist, dragging her down the corridor. Toni flashes Jughead a surprised and excited look as she goes. 

Betty turns to Jughead, and he raises both eyebrows in incredulity when he hands her the Taser. “Yours?”

“Mmm,” she hums in what she hopes is a casual manner, reaching out for it. Jughead moves it away at the last second, and she falls against his chest. His arm comes down around her and pulls her snug against him. 

“Do you really remember me from school?” he asks in a level tone, and she wishes she could see his face. 

She nods. “Of course I do. I remember your voice as well." She can feel him holding his breath under the flat of her cheek. "How did you think I knew it was you on Viper?”

Jughead’s other hand comes down around her, and he hugs her. Betty thinks that he kisses the top of her hair, but she can’t be sure, so she responds by sliding her arms around his waist and holding him just as tightly.

“Betts,” he murmurs, lips brushing her hairline. At least he's breathing now. “I’ll help you, okay? You can have a platform on my show. Sorry for making you work so hard for it.”

She giggles into his delicious-smelling chest. “I love hard work, Jones, and you are the hardest.”

His chuckles send shivers through her body.

Someone clears their throat from the other entrance to the kitchen. 

“Sorry to interrupt, Betty and Serpent King, how about a game of Reggie’s house party version of Truth or Dare?” Veronica asks, and Sweet Pea is already wrapped around her frame like an expensive fur coat. 

“If we have to?” Betty says, not really wanting to move from her position of being ensconced in Jughead’s arms.

“Yeah,” Jughead agrees, cheek resting atop her head. “I’m pretty happy here.”

Veronica puts on her best pleading expression. “Please, B? Can you just play this game, and then we can leave? Just a bit of fun?”

Jughead makes a noise of frustration and Veronica glares at him. 

Betty arches back to see the same daggered look in Jughead's eyes. She smiles, watching a more pleasant expression slide on to his face as he readjusts to focus on her. “We could do it to mess with Jason?”

Jughead raises both eyebrows and swallows hard. “Yeah,” he allows, voice catching, “I’d be into that.”

Vindicated, Veronica sweeps them into the lounge room. Reggie is standing on the coffee table and loudly explaining the rules to the room. 

“The idea is that each lady will put her name into this hat, and each gentlemen will draw a name. The name on the card will be your partner for the duration of the game,” he hollers, surprisingly lucid despite the top-shelf brandy he’s been knocking back like soapy tequila. “Yep, we'll have a series of questions and a series of challenges that you can either choose truth or dare.”

Archie and Moose walk around collecting names. Betty writes her full name with a flourish on the card before Archie takes it with a smile. 

“This is stupid,” Jughead pouts, glowering at the room. Betty notices the way people avoid his eyes. “What if we don’t end up together?”

“Then I’ll tase them for you, and you can take their place,” Betty informs sweetly, looking up at him. 

Jughead’s lip twitches in amusement, and he seems to accept her answer.

“Why does Jason hate you, Jughead?” Betty asks as she eyes Jason with open distaste. 

Jughead looks slightly disconcerted by her question. Betty watches something flicker across his face, and then he smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “No clue, Betts. Jason hates everyone.”

“Hey there, Virgin Spice,” Jason says snidely as he walks towards them.

Jughead rolls his eyes, sticks his hand into the hat, and pulls out all the cards, ignoring Jason’s squawk of protest. Jughead and Sweet Pea silence him with a look. Nonchalantly, Jughead flips through the cards and hands Sweet Pea one with Veronica’s name on it. 

Jughead reaches the end of the pack and narrows his eyes. “Give me Betty’s card, Blossom.”

“Jughead, it doesn’t matter,” Betty says with a shrug and folds her arms. “I’m not playing this game with anyone but you, so whoever comes near me without my consent will get a knee to the balls.”

Sweet Pea barks a laugh, and Jughead looks at Betty with naked approval shining in his eyes.

Jason hisses, “That’s not in the spirit of the game, Betty!”

Betty makes her eyes really large and innocent before she says, “Oh, that’s not in the spirit of free will. Honestly, people these days. Don’t you think there is too much emphasis on determinism in our culture, Jase?”

“Huh?” he says stupidly.

Beside her, Jughead chuckles. “I think the concept of fate is only fun to explore when we start thinking about life existing in a simulation.”

Betty grins at him, holding his gaze. “Well, with choice, at least you can explore it within the realms of the multiverse theory. People like the idea of fate because it seems romantic.”

“Don’t say ‘multiverse’ too loudly, because Toni will race back in here with her theories,” Jughead jokes, slinging his arm around her. “But you are right, of course. I’d take choice over determinism any day of the week.”

Jason growls in frustration, glaring between the two. “What the fuck are you two freaks yammering on about?”

Betty ignores him and brushes her nose along Jughead’s jawline. 

Jason snarls at her, “Fine, do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t care. Just know Betty, that you’re slumming it right now.”

“Start hanging around with trash, and we dirty everything up,” Jughead agrees with a solemn voice. 

Betty sighs and steps back from Jughead to confront Jason head-on.

She walks up to him and puts both her hands on his shoulders. She watches his expression, a mixture of curiosity and disbelief, as she leans in to let her words skate across the shell of his ear. “I don’t know about you, Jason, but I am really _dirty,_ you know?”

Veronica snorts and covers her mouth with her hands as if startled such an inelegant sound could escape her.

"Fuck off you bitch." Jason throws her off him and stalks away in a fit of fury. 

Betty smiles to herself, and when she turns around, she sees that Jughead’s expression is molten. “That," he says, gesturing to her. "Was so hot.”

Veronica half-laughs, half-moans, “You know, Betty, I think I love you.”

“Back off, Veronica,” Jughead threatens, an undercurrent of possessiveness in his tone. The tiny brunette flips him the bird. 

Once the cards have been handed out, Reggie clambers back on to the coffee table and announces the rules. 

“So, the way we play this game is essentially crowd-sourced truth or dare,” Reggie yells to whooping cheers reminiscent of every Bulldogs game Betty cheered at in her youth. She spies Kevin in the other corner and waves at him, a broad smile on her face. He is deep in conversation with Archie and acknowledges her with a grin and salute. “We have a massive dice, and each couple have to roll when it's their turn.”

He throws a huge plush dice around the room, and it passes from jock to jock like it’s a football. 

“So cool,” Betty deadpans, and she thinks she hears Jughead snort.

“If it lands on one, you both make out in a closet with no shirts! If it lands on a two, you both have to complete a crowd-supplied dare. A three, and you have to answer a crowd-sourced truth question.” Reggie circles around on the table, like a ballerina in a music box as he addresses everyone. “If you get a four, you have to make out in front of everyone. Five and six are the same as what I mentioned, but your partner has to ask you the question or dare you rather than it being crowd-sourced. Got it?”

“This is so convoluted!” Someone yells.

Another person cheers, “Yeah, can we just fuck?”

Reggie waggles his finger at the source of the voices. “Penalty for not participating is that you have to tell everyone explicitly about your first time. No gory detail left behind!”

Betty winces at this. _No way am I confirming to Blossom that I have never slept with anyone. He would never let me live it down._

“For all you fuckers complaining about the rules, don’t worry, I will explain them. Also this game has the added bonus of being one of drinking!” Reggie hypes up the crowd, Bulldog barking. “If it lands on an odd number, we all take a shot. If it lands on an even number, you can do whatever the fuck you like.”

Thankfully, it takes quite a while to get to their turn. While she makes her way to requisition a bag of crisps for an increasingly impatient Jughead, she manages to catch Chuck and Munroe for a quick word, to reassure them that she was still on the case and she had no promising leads yet. 

When she returns, Jughead mutters _you're a fucking godsend_ and tears into the bag with ravenous fury. They watch Veronica and Sweet Pea do body shots off each other, Midge and Reggie make out passionately with a lot of gratuitous second-base action, and Moose describes his lacklustre first time in explicit and pathetic detail, which Betty really didn't need to hear. Joaquin, however, looks at him with predatory glee, and Betty can already picture how Moose is going to get dragged out of the closet, kicking and screaming. From the look in his eyes, Joaquin probably likes a screamer. Kevin seems to be staring at Joaquin with a very interested expression, and Betty bites her lip in excitement. 

Then, it gets to their turn. Jason throws the plush dice at Jughead who catches it with both hands and groans pathetically.

“Betts, can we just go watch a movie or get a burger, please?” he mutters out the corner of his mouth. “This is a travesty.”

She sighs, putting down the shot glass. She’s had one drink all night and doesn’t want to have more. It feels weird given Jughead is not drinking. “I want that, too, but Veronica did beg me, and I am a sucker for her ways. Though it is nice to annoy Jason with you.”

She thinks she hears Jughead mutter something like _and I’m a sucker for you_ , but she can’t be entirely sure that she didn’t imagine it. 

He rolls the dice, and it lands on a six. She locks eyes with him: a truth question asked by your partner. 

He smiles and says cryptically, “Betty, you mentioned to me you’re a fan of a certain show. When precisely did you start engaging?”

Betty casts her mind back and tries to remember. “Um, pretty early? Like around three years ago I think. Before the co-host arrival.”

She wants to tell him that the timing almost coincided with his departure from Riverdale High but doesn’t want to give up his secret identity to the room. Jughead looks interested and folds his arms over his chest. 

He gives her a contemplative look when he suggests, “Your question.”

She gives him her best innocent expression and makes a formal appeal, “Dear Serpent King, I humbly request for you to teach me how to ride a motorbike. Please?”

Betty watches as Jughead’s expression goes from introspective to wickedly amused. “Oh,” he breathes, his eyes dark as he sweeps her into his arms. “It would be my pleasure.”

“I knew I would make a cute Serpent,” she says cheekily, gazing into his eyes. Jughead smirks and taps her nose with his finger once in endearment.

“That’s not a truth,” Jason protests. “That’s a fucking favour.”

Betty rolls her eyes and says to Jughead, “How would you feel if I rode your bike?”

“Probably turned on,” Jughead whispers in her ear. Betty gasps and captures his lips with her own in response. 

When it gets to their turn again, Betty stumbles in catching the dice and falls against Jughead. 

He steadies her with a muttered, “Whoa there, slow down on the tequila, Betts.”

“I’ve literally had one shot this whole night,” she complains irately. He raises his eyebrows at her, and she blows him a kiss in return. 

Someone turns on a Fall Out Boy album in the background, and Betty recognises the song: Sugar, We’re Going Down. 

She rolls a one. 

_Shirts-off closet make out time?_

“Take me to a closet,” Betty commands, and Jughead chuckles beside her. 

Jughead holds her tight to his side as a fuming Jason Blossom walks them towards the butler’s pantry. Veronica and the Serpents cheer them with loud cat-calls and wolf howls. 

“Get some, Betty!” Veronica cries loudly and then starts making out with Sweet Pea while grabbing onto Fangs’s Serpents jacket. The Northside boys look on with utter jealousy. Betty has to admit that if anyone has the power to wrap two Serpents around her pinky finger, it’s Veronica Lodge. 

“She wastes no time, does she?” Jughead quips. 

“Nope,” Betty says proudly, “She thinks it’s pointless. Veronica is unashamedly herself all the time, and I find it captivating.”

“You’re like that too, Betty,” he murmurs as they arrive at the pantry door. Before she can respond or thank him for such a lovely compliment, Jason (of course) ruins the moment. 

“Shirts off,” he demands smugly. 

Betty raises both eyebrows and says dismissively, “Yeah, we know, we will strip each other in that pantry without your beady little eyes on us. Comprendes?”

“No can do,” Jason says with a nasty grin. “There are rules. Off.”

Betty sighs and pulls off her top in one swift move. She hears a muted noise from Jughead and only hopes that the sound is appreciation.

She watches as Jason’s gaze rakes over her half-naked torso and he remarks, “Pure white, how appropriate.”

“Jason,” Jughead says with a manic grin on his face. “I have stayed out of this _thing_ out of respect for Betty, because she can handle you with ease and doesn’t need a saviour, but honest to god, if you so much as look at her for the rest of the night, I will break every bone in your body. And I will enjoy it.”

Jason flinches at the sweet threat delivered with such crisp politeness. Betty is alarmed by how turned on she is by the whole thing. Jughead’s gaze flicks to hers, searching for something. 

“Oooh,” Betty coos in delight, eyes gleaming. “Can I help? I’ve got a solid left hook.”

Jughead exhales, a happy smile on his face. “Of course you can, Betts," he promises. "Whatever you want. I can just hold him for you if you want? I’d get really into watching you take him out.”

Betty feels hot all over at his words.

“You guys are such freaks,” Jason snarls, and Jughead takes off his Serpent jacket and hands it to Betty, who sniffs it while he rids himself of his black t-shirt. 

She is desperate to get her hands and mouth all over him. 

“My eyes are up here, Betty,” Jughead quips, and she starts, guilty. 

She folds her arms and watches as his eyes track to her chest and back up to her face. “Mmhm, they sure are,” she purrs, and Jughead drags her into the pantry without ceremony. 

He lifts her up onto the bench and steps in between her legs, running his hands up the naked skin of her torso and behind her shoulders to pull her against him. She moans slightly at his feather-light touch and is pleased to note Jughead grit his teeth as if to prevent himself from making a similar noise of longing.

_Well, this sort of restraint won’t do, will it?_

“You have ten minutes until we come back and haul you out,” Jason informs them with a note of disgust. 

“Fuck off, Blossom,” Jughead says pleasantly, and Betty murmurs in agreement, threading her arms around his bare shoulders and tilting her head towards hers. In the moments before they are plunged into complete darkness, Jughead’s eyes are liquid with desire, and Betty shivers in delight, feeling heat lance through her.

She gasps as his hands thread through her hair and his lips ghost hers, breath caressing her face. 

She wraps her legs around his midsection, revelling in his hiss of pleasure as her bare skin touches his torso and pulls him flush against her. 

His lips brush hers with a tenderness that makes her keen. There is something emboldening about the inky blackness of the room that makes her feel powerful. She is no longer a cute Northsider trying to seduce the Serpent King with breakfast foods in his office during broad daylight, but Betty Cooper: formidable, sensual and all sweet confidence. 

She unashamedly trails her fingers down Jughead’s back, enjoying the way he arches into her touch and heat without realising it. He moans against her mouth and kisses her with an intensity that renders her breathless. 

She encourages his mouth open with her own, his fingers tightening in her hair momentarily before their tongues touch. 

Betty hears him gasp and loves it, squirming on the bench in anticipation. 

Jughead releases a keening sound and if possible, that makes her even hotter, thrilling in the fact that she has the ability to drive him wild. His hands disentangle themselves from her hair, and she hisses in pleasure as he grips her thighs; the heat of his hands radiating through her very being. 

Betty pulls him closer, their kisses more desperate and increasingly messy. She can feel the scorching heat of his chest pressed up against her breasts, and the ache between her legs is driving her spare. She shamelessly rolls her hips against him eliciting a delicious groan as he holds her thighs tightly. 

Jughead trails his fingers up her leg and under her skirt. She’s dying for his touch and wants him inside her like she’s never wanted anything else. 

Suddenly, he stills underneath her, and he pulls back slightly, panting against her lips. His voice is amused and laced with desperation when he says, “Are you wearing a chastity belt or something?”

She wonders momentarily what he’s talking about when it suddenly dawns on her what the metal and leather under her skirt is. “Ohh, you’ve stumbled upon my hip flask garter belt,” she informs him, somewhat breathlessly. 

Jughead’s forehead touches hers, and he moans, “Holy fuck, Betty Cooper, you are the coolest person I’ve ever met.”

Her purr of pleasure turns into surprise as Jughead draws her mouth to his, the fingers on her thigh teasing little circles at the edge of her leather garter strap. 

She rolls her hips against his and feels his jean-covered erection brush her core. They gasp together. 

Jughead holds her still for a moment, panting. He takes his hand from her leg, and she narrows her eyes in the darkness, frustrated with the loss of his touch.

“Hey, Betts,” he groans against her lips. She leans in to sniff at him surreptitiously because he smells delicious. She wonders if he would notice if she stole his Serpent jacket to snuggle up in bed with?

He takes a deep breath and says, “Do you want to come back to my place tonight? Jellybean is over at a friend’s.”

“Damn,” Jughead swears before she can say anything. “Sorry, you’ve been drinking, I just - ugh - come stay over, and I’ll make you breakfast?”

“I haven’t had that much to drink,” Betty counters, feeling shivery with anticipation. “I can make decisions.”

“Also,” Jughead starts, voice weird.

“Mmm?” she hums in response, and she feels the tingling whorls under his fingers as his hands find purchase, cupping her head with tenderness. His thumbs trace circles on her cheeks, and her eyes flutter closed with the pleasure of his touch.

“What Jason said before,” he says, voice stilted and jagged in the dark. “Was that a Blossom douche special joke, or are you actually a virgin?”

Betty feels her heart rate kick up in her chest: would he not like her if he found out that she was inexperienced? 

She takes a deep breath and responds as quickly as possible, like ripping off a Band-Aid. “Well, it’s both.”

“Huh?” he says, confused. 

“It is a Blossom special because he likes to mess with me,” Betty murmurs. “But it’s also true. Not that he has any reason for knowing that, I think he just surmised based on the fact that I’ve turned him down too many times to count.”

Jughead chuckles a little at this, and she feels his breath curl across her lips. 

“Why?” she asks curiously.

He makes a weird sound, like a hungry cat prowling on a bird. 

“Ah…” he starts, and then trails off into awkward silence.

“Is it really that bad?” Betty demands bluntly, the darkness giving her power. “Just tell me, I can handle myself, Jones.”

Jughead freezes his circling motions on her cheeks.

“I assure you,” Betty snarls, hands on his chest, pressing with more force than she otherwise would. “I am a _very_ fast learner. Just teach me what you like, and I’ll tell you what I want to try, okay?”

Jughead makes a choked sound in his throat and then takes one of his hands from her cheek. Moments later she hears him groan into his elbow.

“Betts,” Jughead whispers, voice raw. “You don’t need to provide me fucking _credentials!_ ”

“Okay, so what’s the problem with me?” Betty snaps, pushing at him in relentless inquiry. 

“Nothing! Nothing is wrong with you!” Jughead says, in a strangled tone. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a virgin, and don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

He sucks in a breath and, in a hurried rush, confesses, “Because I should probably tell you that I’m a virgin, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao
> 
> but seriously they bang next chapter alright?


	9. boy, you won’t be sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _p o r n_
> 
> ~~~
> 
>  **Chapter title song:** The Faders – No Sleep Tonight (2005) - Veronica Mars Soundtrack  
>  **Date:** Sunday, 7th May 2006 (very early morning ;) )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how excited you are all for them to bang! Well, here we go, pretty much straight-up porn :P
> 
> Many thanks and hugs to [redcirce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcirce) and [meditationonbaaal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationonbaaal)
> 
> Also happy birthday to **irrelevancyspeaking**! Wishing you a brilliant day! (Side note: I'm so pleased I could provide you smut on your birthday? hahha how fortuitous!)
> 
> Stop your boy (or anyone really) from sleeping tonight with the [Viper Radio Playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4pw4LfrUm0cQ5DRkgvfdmE?si=DybxwnTpRke8whyyy8EOGw)

“Jughead,” Betty says thoughtfully as they stand by the door to his trailer while he tries to unlock it under the cover of night. “I don’t think we should wait until morning. If you’re keen, I would like to do it tonight.”

She hears the sound of metal hitting the concrete steps and surmises he has dropped his keys in shock at her forthrightness. 

“Betts,” Jughead says, stooping down to pick them up. His voice is tight and controlled. “In our discussion - at Jason’s - you said that you were nervous and that you wanted to wait the night. What made you change your mind?”

She hums, feeling a manic energy course through her. “I just really want to have your hands all over me, and I don’t want to wait until morning. I won’t sleep anyway because I will just be driven to distraction thinking about it…”

He stills, and she can hear him scraping his key futilely against the lock again. At this rate it will be morning before she even sets foot inside his trailer and she’ll have to take his virginity on his frayed welcome mat. 

Oh, what a shame. 

“Give me one second. I want to talk to you about this when I can see your face,” he says.

Jughead finally gets the door open and turns the light on inside, drawing her in. The place is much more spacious than she thought it would be, and she delights in all the watercolour art pinned up on every surface. 

“Jellybean’s?” she asks curiously, looking at a particularly vivid image of a deer with colourful brains exploding across the page and black tears dripping down its cheek. 

Jughead grins. “Yeah, definitely.”

“She’s really good,” Betty murmurs, eyes running over the little detailed patterns and fluid layering. 

“She got most of the talent in the family,” Jughead throws out and goes to flick on the kettle. “Can I interest you in a cup of tea or something?”

She turns to look at him, completely at ease in his place, moving around the kitchen like he’s offered countless girls tea after they’ve ineffectively propositioned him. 

“Sure,” she agrees with an arched brow in his direction. “Trying to sober me up?”

“Definitely,” Jughead announces. “I mean, Betts, you have a hip flask of Fireball strapped to your upper thigh. Doesn’t actually inspire confidence for sobriety.”

“I’m certain that I’m sober now.”

Jughead raises both eyebrows at her, mouth agape.

She shrugs. “I had one standard drink – one shot of tequila. I didn’t end up having the martini because of the Cheryl situation, and that was almost three hours ago.”

Jughead clears his throat and sasses, “Calculations aside, you have a _hip flask_ of _Fireball_.”

“Did you taste cinnamon on my lips?” Betty exclaims loudly, “Come here and check for yourself if you don’t believe me, officer! And also, hey! You said it was super cool!”

Jughead smirks at her. “Oh and insanely hot, too. How does it stay up? I just touched your thighs; they’re way too smooth.”

Betty giggles, feeling flushed. “Yeah, it sort of clips into my underwear I suppose, I don’t want my illicit drinking activities sliding out from under my skirt at a random time. A girl has to be prepared for anything.”

Jughead chokes slightly and then turns around to face her. “So can you tell me why you didn’t stash it in your tiny bag there?” He points to the pale pink clutch in question.

“Well, duh.” Betty says, “Where would my Taser go?”

She pauses for a moment and then acquiesces, “Well, you do have a point I suppose. I could have strapped the Taser to my upper thigh? Would that have been better?”

Jughead shrugs helplessly. “As in, more inviting? Not really, Betts.”

Betty nods, pleased that he agrees with her logistical proposition. “Oh, I thought so,” she chirps. “I mean, the premise of a hip flask is that it really should be at your hip, right? I think that my thigh is close enough.”

Jughead makes a weird sound, an aural flail, like he’s suddenly realised he’s out of his depth. He shakes his head and says, “Do you want anything to eat? Like pop-tarts or something?”

She laughs because there is something so _amusing_ about a gang leader making her pop tarts and tea at an ungodly hour of the morning (to delay having sex at her expressed request). 

Jughead blushes and pouts, “What?”

Betty walks over to the kitchen and runs her fingers up his torso, before cupping the back of his neck and to draw him into a kiss. He sighs against her, and she feels him relax as she caresses his mouth with her own. 

“You’re not what I expected, Jughead Jones,” she whispers across his lips, and he shudders against her. 

“You’re not what I expected either, Betty Cooper,” he confesses, cheeks pink.

She stares at him and he at her, presumably to try and decipher what the other one means by their respective statements. 

The kettle whistles, piercing the silence. Jughead breaks eye contact to look at the billowing steam. Betty sighs and steps back.

“Pop-tarts?” she grins up at him.

“In the pantry.” He inclines his head towards it. 

After a few minutes of domestic activity, Jughead and Betty curl up on the couch together with a plate of brown sugar and cinnamon pop-tarts in front of them. Betty tucks her legs up underneath her, and Jughead traces the movement with his eyes. 

“Um, I will say that I’m surprised you remembered me from school,” Jughead says, startling her because this is not the line of conversation she expected.

She nods. “I tried to talk to you a few times outside of the school newspaper, but you just...”

Jughead grimaces slightly. “Well, now you know about my crippling social anxiety from those days. So, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to you. I just couldn’t.”

Betty feels her heart go out to him. “I’m so sorry.”

Jughead looks at her with raised eyebrows. “Why are you apologising?”

“Well, school sucks as it is, and I have no doubt that anxiety would have made it so much worse,” she concedes and tucks an errant wave behind her ear. “Sorry you had to go through that alone. I’d like to think that I could have helped out if I had known.”

Jughead smiles at her with a depth to his expression that she doesn’t quite comprehend. He takes a sip of his tea and breathes, “Jesus, you throw me off.”

Betty grins at him. “I’ve been told that I’m disarming.”

Jughead splutters into his mug, eyes sparkling. “That’s a perfect description of you, actually.”

“Do you remember me from high school?” she asks, pulling at some stray threads on the couch. 

Out of her peripherals she can see Jughead stiffen. 

“Yes. Betts, I do remember you.” She doesn’t look at him, but there is a current of raw emotionality weaving in the depths of his voice that makes her shiver. 

Betty puts down her cup of tea and turns to Jughead on the couch. She watches him through her lashes as she places her hand on his leg and traces it slowly up his thigh. His eyes flash darkly.

“Put down the drink unless you want to wear it,” she commands, and Jughead’s mug lands so hard on the table she’s briefly worried it will shatter. 

With no extra thought spared for the crockery, Betty swings her leg over his thighs and straddles him. 

Jughead places his hands on her waist, stroking her sides softly. She moans, rolling her body into his touch. 

She runs her fingers through his hair, twisting them into his locks, holding him still. His eyes widen as he stares at her, gaze flicking to her mouth as if in question. 

She smirks and brushes her lips softly to his. 

His hands grip her waist, fingertips digging into her as he encourages her to move her hips against his lap, gasping into her mouth. 

“I thought you were cute in high school, did you know?” Betty informs him, and Jughead whimpers underneath her. “You were really smart. I loved your ideas and creativity. And your hair. I really loved your hair. Is that dumb thing to say? Anyway, I still love it, actually.”

Without further ado, Jughead’s hands move to cup her cheeks, kissing her with earnest. “I have always thought that you were gorgeous, and the only thing that has changed is now I can tell you about it.”

Betty feels impossibly hot at his words and says, “Tell me more.”

“When I said that you weren’t what I expected,” Jughead whispers, kissing her between words, “I meant it. You’re so fucking bright it overwhelms me.”

“Mmm,” she hums against his mouth, his words sending delicious effervescent shivers through her, making her gasp with need, “Don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” Jughead swears, and his fingers massage her scalp as his mouth moves against hers. She wants to feel him and his words imprint her. “I couldn’t believe my luck when you drove that ridiculous car of yours into my lot.”

She kisses the corner of his mouth and tilts her hips, seeking friction. Jughead runs his hands down her shoulders to grasp her waist, matching her rhythmic movements with his body.

The feeling of him pressed against her makes her skin sizzle with electricity, a charge building with every successive stroke. 

“You’re more than I ever imagined,” Jughead pants breathlessly, keening as she moves against his jean-covered erection. “You’re the funniest, most badass person I’ve ever met.”

Betty’s whole body is on fire with need, and she feels drunk on his delicious words, wanting them breathed all over her skin as he fucks her senseless. She licks his collarbone delicately, revelling in Jughead’s fingertips digging into her hips as if out of his control. 

“I want to touch you,” he gasps, and Betty decides now is the best possible time to take her top off. 

“Then touch me,” Betty insists, as his eyes grow simultaneously dark and wide, staring down at her semi-nude torso. She watches as his gaze rakes over the swell of her breasts edged by her white lacy bra. 

Jughead curves her back in his arms, trailing nibbles and light licks down her neck, murmuring against her skin as she sighs. His tongue traces torturously slowly between her breasts, and his other hand dances along her ribs and bra, making her hiss. 

“Jughead, I want you to have sex with me tonight,” Betty states with inescapable clarity as he presses a kiss to the curve of her breast.

He makes a groaning sound, and she feels his nails dig into her side. 

“Betts,” he whispers hoarsely. She can feel his cock straining in his jeans and is desperate to feel more of him. “I want you to be sure.”

“I am,” she insists, straightening her spine so she can address him directly. His eyes swim with myriad emotions, and she wants to draw out the passion simmering beneath. “I wanted to take you from the moment I saw you in the car yard, and it’s all I’ve been thinking about for this last week.”

Jughead pitches his face forward and moans into the crook of her neck. He kisses her shoulder, his hands fluttering lightly across her breasts, making her crazy with _not enough_ of the feeling she needs.

Betty cards her hands through his hair and pulls up his head so he’s staring into her eyes again. She makes direct eye contact when she says, “I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. That’s why I want to do this with you.”

He blushes and a desperate longing sound is torn from his chest, “Betts, I --.”

She interrupts him. “Nothing would make me happier right now than that, I swear to you. I’m on the pill, and I am also clean. I’m not drunk; I’ve done the calculations. I’m ready, I promise.”

“I believe you,” he murmurs, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment. “Really, I do. I’m just nervous. I really want to be good.”

Betty’s heart slams in her throat. “Jug,” she breathes. “It’s you, of course it’s going to be good.”

He flashes her a wry smile. “Thank you for all the faith you have in me,” he murmurs. “Despite that being terrifying.”

“Jug,” she says, trying to give him her best reassuring look.

“Ah fuck.” He sighs heavily. “I feel so underprepared for this, other than the fact I have a clean bill of health, a pack of condoms, and that’s literally it.”

She giggles, and he cracks open his eyes to shoot her a narrow glare. 

He growls, “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it for my every waking moment for what feels like eons, but literature reviews can only get me so far.”

Betty shrugs. “Let’s just give it a go. I want to do this with you.” 

Jughead rakes his fingers desperately though his hair, and Betty wonders if he’s going to try and fabricate another excuse. 

She smirks and pitches her voice low to purr at him, “Come on, Serpent King, let me ride you.” 

His whole body tenses underneath her, and she rolls her hips on his lap, feeling his erection graze her core. They both moan. 

“I feel like I’ve given you a licence to torture me,” he says, voice rough with arousal and mirth. 

“I can forge any licence I need regardless,” Betty whispers and Jughead groans, biting his lip. “Come on, Juggie, stop letting your anxiety consume you. It’s new for both of us, so we’ll learn together. Unless you don’t want to?”

He closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his head. “Impossible.”

He runs his knuckles against her cheek and opens his eyes to stare at her. She’s astounded by the desire within them, roiling and molten, and she wants to drown in him. 

“Betts,” he murmurs. “I do want to do this.”

“Talk me through it, please,” she says softly, and his eyes are hot as they hold her in place. “Your voice does things to me.”

“You, too,” he pleads. “I need to know that you feel good and that you want this.”

“Done,” she purrs, rocking her body desperately along his hardened length as he runs his fingers through her hair and down her back. Jughead moans and bucks his hips up, brushing his erection against her. 

She feels his hand still at her shoulder blades and he gasps, “You’re so beautiful. When you took off your top before,” his voice catches and he blushes. “Your _defiance_ \-- I just --.”

She feels him trail his lips down her neck, and his teeth graze her collarbone. The sensation sends a fizzing tremor through her that makes her twitch against his lap. He hums at her neck, hot breath panting over her exposed chest. She watches as she kisses a line down her sternum. 

Betty feels his chin, rough with stubble, caress the swell of her breast, and she cries out at the sensation, threading her fingers through his black hair and holding his head in place. 

Her whole body feels like it’s melting, and there’s a pulsing sensation that spreads through her lower body like wildfire, consuming her. 

Trapped against her chest, Jughead chuckles, and she can feel his breath ghost her peaked nipple as he peels back the edge of the bra with his teeth. 

“I feel insane,” she gasps, trying in vain to describe the pleasure irradiating her body. Jughead nuzzles at her breast, the roughness of his skin making her writhe in his lap, fingers digging into his hair insistently. 

“Tell me what you want, Betts,” he murmurs, lips lightly catching her nipple. “I want to take this at a comfortable pace for you, okay?”

“Screw comfort,” she snarls at him, and Jughead lifts his head to give her a small smile. 

He grins at her insistence and jolts her head back abruptly, yet gently by her hair. She feels her moans catch in her throat at the renewed sensation of his lips wrapping around her nipple. His lips tease and kiss, driving her wild.

Her peaked nipple serves a direct and lancing feeling of arousal to her core. She rolls her hips ineffectually against Jughead, trying to feel his hardness against her. 

“Betts,” he whispers against her breast, dancing the fingertips of one hand down her chest and stomach to caress her thigh. His fingers are too far from where she wants them.

She places her hand in his and pushes it up her skirt, brushing his fingers against her soaked underwear. 

He hisses and then tugs lightly on her nipple, making her keen. “You’re so fucking perfect, you have no idea.”

His words have always made her wet, and she thought having him whisper to her in real life like this would quell the ache, not add to it. 

Quite obviously, she was wrong.

Jughead levers his legs apart slightly, and she feels herself sink between his thighs, her own legs spreading with his movements. His fingers brush gently over her lace underwear, and she releases a pathetic whimper.

He traces a circular pattern over her clit, making her gasp and squirm as she attempts to seek more. She’s aware of her wild, desperate noises, and Jughead tears aside her underwear to run a digit down her folds. 

He moans against her breast, making her tremble with the combination of sensations. She hears the cursed _fuck_ ripple across her skin before he tilts his head up so that he can kiss her.

She’s breathless and rambling as he dips his fingertip into her pussy, and the look in his eyes one of adoration. She feels transcendent under his dark stare and grinds herself helplessly onto his finger, seeking the pressure. 

He groans against her lips and presses his finger inside, curling it in a way that makes her feel shivery and achy. 

“Again, please,” she demands, her voice ragged, and he obliges, sucking air through gritted teeth.

“Harder, Jug, I want more,” she says insistently. 

He pulls back to stare at her, “You have to tell me when it gets too much, okay?”

She tosses her hair back to grin at him, “Have you ever known me to be shy?”

He chuckles, his warm cinnamon breath curling over her lips and he implores, “Please, Betts, you have to tell me.”

She nods and smiles, “I promise.”

He kisses her with a gorgeous tenderness that makes her feel shimmery and she begs him, “Harder, please.”

His thumb circles her clit instead, which causes achy tremors to flow through her, and she’s desperate for more, feeling hot and feverish. 

He lowers his mouth to her breast and tugs at her nipple gently with his teeth, sliding his fingers deep inside her. 

“Oh!” she cries out, her own fingers raking through his hair and over his shoulders, twisting in his t-shirt.

“So good,” she compliments him as his fingers drive into her again and his mouth sends liquid barbs all over her skin. “You’re so good, Jughead.”

He trembles against her, panting at her breast, and Betty is floored at the expression in his eyes when he lifts his gaze to stare at her. 

“You like it when I tell you how good you are?” she whispers, voice rough, and she feels his fingers twitch inside her involuntarily. A delicious, powerful feeling floods her, and she smirks, running her fingers up his thighs, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She watches as Jughead’s tongue darts out to lick her nipple with the flat of his tongue. 

Betty pitches her voice low and purrs, brushing her hand over his clothed erection, “You’re so amazing, Jughead. I’ve been wanting you to do this to me for so long…”

A whimper is torn from Jughead’s throat, and he angles her head to his so that he can ravish her mouth. Their humid breath tangles in the mess of lips and teeth as he groans against her, encouraging her to firm, to take.

“You have a beautiful voice,” he admits through kisses, thrusting his fingers into her again. “I’ve definitely dreamt about you whispering to me.”

“Mmm, likewise,” Betty gasps, feeling him flex his hips into her hand, cock straining in his jeans. She increases the pressure and is delighted when he moans. 

Her head tips back as his thrusts inside her increase in frequency, the curling, needy sensation building to a fever pitch. She can hear her breath as it shudders through her lips, can feel Jughead’s teeth tugging at her nipple and everything is too much.

“Yes,” she keens, her voice trembling as her stomach muscles clench. She squirms in Jughead’s grip, and he holds her tightly, fingers stroking her to the edge. “So good, Jug.”

He shudders, gasping as he pushes his hips up for more friction against her hand. She strokes him harder, and he responds by curling his fingers inside her insistently. She comes hard, thighs tense and spread on his lap. 

Jughead hisses against her chest and holds her as she trembles, the tingling feeling skittering across her nerve endings. She tries to right herself. His eyes are dark and soft as he steadies her. 

“You’re so beautiful, Betty,” he whispers, slowly sliding his fingers from her. She watches in fascination as Jughead brings his fingers to his lips and licks her release, maintaining eye contact. His eyes flutter closed and he hums, pleased. 

In her mind, he hisses, _You’re dark and filthy, and I love you for it._

She shivers as a bolt of arousal shoots through her. “Oh,” she intones in a pathetic voice, devoid of air.

Fingers sufficiently cleaned, Jughead stares at her with a smug expression on his face. 

“Bedroom?” Jughead suggests. She leaps off him in her haste to get there, tugging at his leather jacket so that he follows her. 

She hears him half-chuckle half-stammer, “Betts, just, um I’ll be there in a moment, let me, um, go to the bathroom first. Okay?”

She rounds on him and presses him up against the nearest wall, taking his mouth. His hands come up to fist into her hair, and he moans, running his tongue along her bottom lip.

“I’ll be less than a minute, I promise,” he murmurs into her mouth and kisses her, walking her backwards to his door. He takes a hand from her hair and opens it behind her and reaches around to switch on the light. 

Betty grips on to his jacket and presses her lips firmly against his before releasing him. “Okay.”

Jughead gives her a promising look and saunters away.

Betty turns to stare into his bedroom. The first thing Betty notices is that his bedroom is filled with music. Band posters adorn the walls; CDs, cassettes and vinyl records are stacked on every available surface. 

_One minute,_ she thinks and starts to search for the pile of scarlet letters she knows are somewhere in this room. She tries under the bed first, a simple yet enduring hiding place for teen boys and sees stacks of classic books. Her eyes narrow. Maybe he thought she would look here first? 

She checks the slats. Nothing.

Betty hears the toilet flush and jumps to her feet guiltily. She takes a casual seat on the bed, crossing her legs out in front of her. 

Moments later Jughead appears at the door, a crooked grin on his face. It’s still odd to see him without his beanie, but Betty now has easy access to run her fingers through his silky black hair.

Betty scoots over so that she can give him enough room to stretch out next to her. He holds up his finger in a _wait_ gesture and puts on a CD. Betty recognises the track as he’s played it before on his show: Love Songs on the Radio. 

“Are you sure you want to do this, Betty?” Jughead asks, eyes intent on hers. “We can always wait until tomorrow or another day entirely. We don't have to do it now.”

“Don’t you want to?” Betty asks him softly, searching his gaze for hesitation.

Jughead waves his hands in front of his face insistently. “Oh no, please don't misunderstand me. I would love to do this.”

He pauses and groans, scrubbing his hands over his face as he says, “Oh my fucking god, I sound like the biggest pervert ever. What I am trying to say is that I would really love to be with you. But, I am really nervous about hurting you, and you not having a good time and then you leaving and never coming back.”

He rakes his fingers through his soft fringe and swallows, hard. “So, I want to make sure that you're sure, because you know, the leaving and not coming back part.”

“Jughead,” she assures him with gentleness. “I really want to do this with you. So can you please stop asking?”

He chuckles and cards his hands through his hair frantically before he shakes his head. 

“Okay,” he says, his mouth twitching into an adorable smile that Betty loves. “As long as you're sure.”

She rolls her eyes elaborately and moans in mock-offence, “My judgement questioned at every turn! How will I cope?”

He looks at her and says, “Fine! Message received. Let me just get out of my head for one moment.”

Jughead seems to deliberate briefly, and Betty decides that it’s the perfect moment to take off her bra and throw it on to the floor. 

He makes a ragged noise as he stares down at her, before leaning over and clasping his fingers around her ankles. He tilts her leg, and as he slides her towards him across the duvet cover, he asks, “Is it weird if I take your shoes off?” 

“You can leave them on if you like?” Betty informs him with her patent sweetness.

“Nope,” Jughead says with a grin, undoing the straps on her heeled sandals. “Can you stop being so gorgeous for a bit? Ideally for the duration it would take for me to regain my cool?”

She giggles because he's being ridiculous. He is effortlessly cool; he doesn’t need help. 

Jughead shakes his head at her and gently stands her shoes upright at the end of his bed. 

He clasps his hands around her ankles again and pulls her towards him, her skirt rides up as he slides her across the bed. 

His eyes are dark as he appraises her. 

Betty's skin feels aflame as Jughead runs his fingers up her inner thighs with teasing circles. She moans helplessly, pressing her body closer to his warmth, wanting to wrap her legs around him and feel the friction again, but he holds her steady.

“Betts,” Jughead says, his voice hoarse. “Can I?”

Betty nods, words escaping her as she lies on the bedspread, legs parted in front of Jughead, his hands drawing thrilling little swirls all over her. 

She feels his fingers dance over her lace underwear and hook into the waistband. He leans over and pushes up her skirt, his lips brushing her inner thighs with impossible softness.

She cries out and arches her body towards him with a desperation she didn't know she possessed. 

She can feel his hot breath against her sensitive skin and wants nothing more than to grind herself against him. She helps him with the belt resting at her hips, undoing the buckles so that he can take off her underwear, pulling them down over her legs along with the garter belt. She sees him smirk in endearment as he watches the leather straps slide off. 

Betty feels weirdly exposed, almost glad that the plaid miniskirt rests between her skin and Jughead's line of sight. His fingers slowly push the skirt up over her hips. 

Hearing the change in his breathing shouldn’t be _this_ arousing.

“Betts,” Jughead whispers and his breath ghosts over her aching core. “I can't wait to taste you properly.”

No one has ever said anything so filthy and delicious to Betty in her life, and to hear it from _him_ makes all the difference. She gasps with the intensity of feeling, now desperate to feel his lips (or anything of his) on her.

He trails his lips up her inner thigh, pausing to nibble and lick at sporadic intervals, his movements making her keen and writhe on the bed.

He licks a stripe across her, and she keens. “There?” he asks, lifting his head.

She bites her lip, feeling flushed. “I don’t know? Maybe? Yes?”

Jughead chuckles, the curls of air teasing her sensitive skin. 

Then, he puts his lips on her clit, and Betty hears herself screech. She has to actively stop herself from pressing her hips towards him in appeal for more.

“Yes, there,” she cries.

It’s as if a molten, tortuous feeling unfurls inside her, making her feel glittery.

Jughead kisses her tenderly, and the sensation drives Betty wild. She reaches down and weaves her hands through his locks, twisting them between her fingers as he chuckles and licks her clit.

“A little to the left,” she breathes and then concedes “No, I meant my left.”

Jughead raises his head and gives her a wry smile, lips kissed with her arousal. “Maybe just pull my hair in the direction you want me to move, or something?”

She grins, flexing her fingers against his scalp “Done.”

He threads his arms around her legs, pulling her waist closer and holding her down on the bed. Betty can feel him drawing circles around her clit with his tongue, and she squirms underneath his ministrations as the fire under her skin blazes.

Jughead licks down further, and Betty can feel his tongue lapping at the moisture pooling at her core.

“Oh,” she cries as he thrusts his tongue inside her dripping quim. 

He drives his tongue into her rhythmically, and Betty can't help but clasp her thighs together around his head he pushes into her. 

The feeling is dazzling. She's never felt like she could simultaneously fly and self-combust in the same heartbeat. 

She can feel the pressure and the ache inside her grow, and she tilts her head up to look into Jughead's eyes.

He watches her with undiluted lust, and he grips her hips as if trying to bring her even closer. 

She feels utterly gorgeous under his gaze, and whispers, “Jug, you make me feel so amazing.”

She watches as his eyes flutter closed momentarily in pleasure as he thrusts his tongue inside her. She comes, crying out his name, fingers tangled in his hair. But he doesn’t stop immediately, instead pressing his tongue deep inside her as she clamps down around him, riding out the waves of her orgasm.

Once her breathing settles, Jughead caresses her gently with his tongue, maintaining eye contact. 

Pulling back, he licks his lips and then wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. “How do you feel?”

“Floaty,” she confesses. “Wonderful. Do you want me to go down on you?”

From his position between her legs, she startles a smile onto his face. “Oh, um, well,” he hedges. “I’m kind of focused on making sure I don’t hurt you, so… next time?”

“Sure,” she whispers, tugging ineffectually at his forearms as if to try and draw him over her body with her movements. “Take off your clothes.” 

He grins at her insistence and wastes no time divesting himself of his clothing. She rakes her eyes down over his chest, his stomach with the serpent tattoo winding up his side, to his narrow hips and…

Betty hears her breath catch in her throat. 

“My eyes are up here, Betty,” Jughead jokes again, and she feels herself instantly relax as she stares up into his eyes. He whispers, “I promise you that we will take this really slow. You can direct the whole thing if it makes you feel better.”

She nods, arches one eyebrow, and purrs, “Well, if it’s based on my direction, come on then.”

Jughead's endearing expression morphs into one of pleasure. “Of course,” he says with a gorgeous crooked grin that makes Betty melt. “Let me put on a condom first.”

“Oh yes, condom.” _At least he remembered,_ Betty berates herself.

Jughead turns and reaches into his bedside table and pulls up a condom out of a fresh box in the drawer. She can hear his fingers sliding through the foil packets trying to fish one out. 

Betty smiles as she watches him.

“I can feel you staring,” he says lightly. “I don’t think I can do this under observation.”

“Sorry!” Betty says and flops back on to the bed to stare at the ceiling. She shimmies out of her skirt, and her mind wanders. She can’t quite believe that she’s _here_ , in Jughead’s bedroom, after all these years thinking about him, writing to him. She bites her lip to stop herself from grinning like a lunatic. 

After a few moments, she props herself up to stare at Jughead again and sees him sweep some discarded wrappers back into the drawer. 

He turns and catches her staring, “What?” 

The tone of his voice is so cute that it hurts Betty’s heart.

“Nothing,” she sings and then decides to tell him anyway. “I just think that you're pretty incredible.”

Betty watches as Jughead’s whole face lights up, and he gets onto the bed, stretching out next to her. 

“Incredible, huh?” he says with a smirk.

She moans as his hot skin brushes against hers, and she can feel his erection resting against her hip. She feels that liquid ache inside her as his fingers trace up her side to cup her breast.

He angles his head towards hers and brushes her lips with his own. The desire simmers under her skin, and she reaches up to hook her arm around his neck and pull him closer.

She unbalances him, his knee sliding between her thighs, a clumsy mess of limbs. They don’t notice, don’t care, as Betty devours his mouth, breathing in his scent and tasting her essence all over his lips. His cock pulses against the crease of her inner thigh, and she gasps. 

“Jughead,” she pleads, and he watches her carefully. 

He nods, and she can see him swallow hard as he slides over her. 

“Betts,” he says softly. “We will go at whatever pace you need. Just tell me, talk to me, please. Promise me?”

“Yes, I promise,” she gasps as his cock brushes her entrance.

He groans, and his head falls forward for a moment, a whispered _damn_ as he grits his teeth.

She tilts her hips up experimentally, causing him to brush against her again. Jughead hisses, jaw clenching as he stares at her through hooded eyes. 

“Stop trying to kill me, Betty,” he admonishes her in a ragged voice. 

She smirks and runs her fingers up his forearms tracing what she hopes are encouraging patterns in his skin. 

“I want you inside me, now,” she tells him and is immensely pleased when Jughead makes an animalistic growling sound in the back of his throat.

His face is a study in concentration as he positions himself at her entrance. She can tell immediately that the angle is wrong, and moves her hands down in between her thighs to grasp his length in her fingers. 

“Am I doing this right?” she muses.

“I have no idea,” Jughead laughs. “Maybe up a bit?”

She giggles and then feels him settle snug against her. “Ohh, _yes_.”

“Yep,” he responds, voice crisp in his throat.

“There,” she whispers as Jughead pants above her and braces his hands on either side of her face. 

“Tell me if I'm going too fast,” he pleads through gritted teeth, and she guides him inside with her fingers. 

The feeling of him stretching her is intense. She can hear the strain in her voice as she focuses on relaxing herself through long breaths. Jughead stills inside her, and when she catches his gaze, his eyes seem to dart back and forth between hers is it trying to decipher her state of mind.

“Pain?” His throat convulses.

“It's just a stretching feeling,” she tells him, reaching up to cup his cheek in reassurance. He nuzzles into her palm with a low hum. “My muscles are not used to this. Please keep going. I really want this. I promise you.”

She can see the effort in Jughead’s face as he slides further inside her with agonising slowness. 

“Stop!” Betty commands, pressing her hand on his cheek as if to arrest him in place. Jughead nods fervently and freezes. He's panting as he holds himself just in her entrance staring down at her.

“Are you okay?” he asks her with concern. “Do you want me out?”

“No, no! I’m fine,” Betty insists and tilts her hips up to make him groan. “I just need to acclimatise to the feeling for a moment. It’s a lot… Do you mind just staying there?”

“Whatever you need,” Jughead assures her.

Betty closes her eyes, emboldened by the darkness in her own mind. She breathes in deeply and exhales. She feels the pressure of him inside her and lets her body relax and settle around him, her body smoothing into the sensation. 

When she opens her eyes, Jughead is staring at her with a sweet expression. She hears a breathy moan escape her as she stares into his gorgeous blue eyes, and arches her back in pleasure of his gaze. 

“Okay, Juggie,” Betty murmurs, stroking his forearms with tenderness. “I'm going to need you to go all the way inside in one movement.”

“Are you sure?” Jughead asks her through small sips of air.

“Positive. Just once and stop please,” she tells him and slides her fingers up over his arms over his shoulders to cup his face in her hands. She rubs her thumbs reassuringly over his cheeks. “I'm really glad it's you.”

“I’m really glad it’s _you_." He turns his head to kiss her palm, and admits with a wry grin, "Is it déclassé to admit that I'm also happy that it’s me?”

Betty giggles, and he takes one hand off the bed to caress her face with his fingertips. She moans and rolls her hips, delighting in the way that Jughead eyes flash in response to her movements.

“Say stop at any time,” he whispers roughly and thrusts into her in one swift movement, burying himself into her up to the hilt. Betty cries out at the bizarre sensation, simultaneously too much and not enough, as she feels herself stretch around him.

She takes a deep breath and lets herself melt to the feeling of him filling her, emboldened by the look of arousal and adoration in his eyes. 

“Yes, Jughead,” she encourages, relaxing again. “You feel so good. Again please.”

She hears Jughead's answering gasp as he slides out of her and thrusts into her again. It's like nothing that she's ever experienced; Jughead's cock providing her with both pleasure and ache, and how she can feel this all at once is beyond her.

“Again,” she hisses at him dragging her nails down his forearms. He thrusts into her in response, releasing a shuddering breath. 

“Betts, I am so sorry, but I'm not going to last very long,” he moans as he thrusts into her again, driving her higher.

“I just need more,” she tells him, desperation lacing her tone. “Please don't stop.”

“Whatever you want,” Jughead agrees in a pained tone, leaning down to brush his lips against hers.

His hot breath dances across her lips through each choked groan, and Betty feels insanely aroused by the intense expression in his eyes; a combination of awe and deep concentration as he pushes into her.

She can feel herself clench around him, clutching and desperate as he levers himself out and drives into her again. His whole body is tense and she can feel the vibrations of his arm muscles as they hold him in place around her. 

Betty loves the quiet, desperate noises he makes in the back of his throat as he moves. She arches her back to angle him deeper, rewarded as those moans breach his lips, an involuntary relinquishing of his pleasure. It stokes her, makes her breathy with need. She rolls her hips experimentally to meet his, feeling him fill and stretch her. 

Jughead stares at her with a half-lidded gaze, mouth parting with gasping breaths on each thrust, sucking in oxygen through his teeth as he moves over her. 

She adores his dedication, how he holds himself for her pleasure, gaze raking over her body like he can’t quite believe his luck and she wants to make him lose it. She pushes her hips up, taking him deep again, feeling his cock pulse inside her as she tenses her muscles. 

“You’re so beautiful,” she moans, digging her nails into him, and he shudders against her, not changing his cadence. The blush that suffuses his cheeks makes her feel glorious, and she arches her back, rolling her hips to meet his. 

He watches as she arches underneath him, letting him see her in her pleasure, tensing around his cock to push him, willing for him to come undone. She wants to see him come, experience the gratification in person of what she’s always imagined in the private darkness of her bed. 

In the soft light of his room, her eyes flick across his face, obsessing over every twitch of his jaw muscle, every flutter of his eyelashes. She feels the desperation of his erratic thrusting and the pained look in his eyes spikes her arousal; he’s _barely_ hanging on and she loves it. She keens underneath him as he drives into her, staring up at him through her lashes, begging him to _take_ his pleasure with every breathy gasp. 

“Betts,” he whispers, eyes widen and stomach tensing and she feels him harden inside, a delicious stretching feeling before he shudders inside her, closing his eyes to a prayer of _fuck_. 

It’s everything she’s dreamed of and her heart flutters in her chest as she watches him gasps above her, head curving forward and eyes shut. She breaths with him, feeling elated and beautiful. 

He leans forward, lazily opening his eyes as he peppers desperately sweet kisses over every inch of skin he can reach. He holds her firm, stilling inside her. 

“Sorry, Betts,” he gasps against her neck. “I just - couldn’t hold on.”

“Jug,” she breathes, angling his face so he stares at her. She can't stand how much she loves him. The feeling wants to tear itself from her soul. “Don’t apologise. That felt amazing. Thank you.”

His lips twist, and he slowly slides out of her, the gorgeous ache between her legs making her hiss. He sidles up next to her and brushes her hair back from her eyes so that he can watch at her. 

“Thank _you_ ,” he whispers in return, lips grazing her cheek as he speaks. Their proximity, coupled with the look in his eyes is possibly more intimate than having sex, and that thought makes her heart flutter in her chest. 

“Um, let me sort this out.” He waves his hand towards his lower body. “And I’ll be right back.”

She kisses the tip of his nose, and he scrunches it, adorably. 

“When you get back, Jug,” she murmurs. “Do you think we can, ah, go again?”

His eyes light up with excitement, and he flashes her a crooked grin. “Definitely.”


End file.
